Legacies and Lollipops
by Magdala
Summary: House endures two further surgeries, his pain management must be reassessed, nothing is easy for the damaged man. Now Betaed and edited through to Chapter Ten. Chapter 20 is now up. Please review.
1. Chapter 2

A couple of people correctly but post-emptively commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Two**

Written by Magdala

Editor/beta: Taruia

PART TWO

Both Cuddy and Wilson let Greg call the shots. He was immediately taken for an MRI, and while that was happening I called Mark. I lied with ease; unembarrassed by the fact that I was with Lisa who could hear every word.

"First I have to find a judge who is willing to issue a writ of Habeas Corpus, then I will need to organize supporting counsel, Mark it's a biggee I haven't got a chance of leaving Princeton tonight. Look you'll just have to take them out to dinner. Better still call Alfredo, the number's by the phone in the kitchen. Tell him how many people. Just say Stacy's regular menu ... Saltimbocca ... what else. Yeah he can do the wines too. Just tell him to put it on my account."

I rolled my eyes at Lisa because Mark was arguing the point. "Okay, okay, no need to do the emasculated man act Mark. I'll call Alfredo. Then I will call you back and tell you everything is organized. Then I will get back to my job." I listened. "Oh good, I knew you had it in you. Just tell them I'm sorry. You have always been better at the social stuff. No don't call me later I could be before the Judge ... I'll call you tomorrow. Have a good night. Oh order an extra Saltimbocca I'll have it tomorrow. Bye. You know I do." I hung up.

"Just as well he's at our house tonight a full two hours away. And has a heap of his friends coming round," I said.

"You lie well," said Cuddy.

"No I don't. I couldn't tell him I loved him. He'll remember that."

"You wouldn't lie to House? Would you?"

"No. Never."

"Good because whatever you say or do right now you'd better stand by," she said. "House might seem strong but I don't know how much more he can take."

"Do you think this is more serious than a disc?"

"I don't know. I hope it isn't. God. I hope it isn't."

"And this time we have to do exactly what he wants." I said.

"Yes we both do. I've felt bad you know."

"What for?" I knew but I wanted and needed to hear it from her.

"You didn't have medical training and you trusted my advice. I let you carry the can."

"How many lives do you think Greg has saved since he came back to work?"

"Uuhm. Given that many of them are moribund by the time they are handed over to his team. Maybe two hundred, two fifty. In that region."

"And they would certainly have died without him?"

"Yes certainly."

"Well that's not to bad a thing to carry the can for. Is it?" I smiled at Lisa Cuddy I had forgiven her years before but obviously she had not forgiven herself.

"I am so sorry, Stacy."

"No need. You've been here for him. That's what mattered."

Foreman entered ignoring me and looking to Cuddy for answers.

"Do you know what's wrong?" He asked, and I could see that he was deeply concerned.

"Not yet House has a theory or two. It looks like you will have to stay in the job for a while."

"And that's supposed to make me happy?" I had never seen Foreman so upset.

"Where is he now?"

"Having an MRI; Chase and Wilson are there," Cuddy answered.

"Pain?"

"It's bad."

"I think he has been have episodes of Breakthrough Pain for more than a week." he said.

"That was Wilson's assessment"

"Mrs. Warner." He finally acknowledged my existence. "Should she be here?" he asked as he turned back to Cuddy.

"Yes she should be here and more importantly House needs her here." Foreman nodded slowly indicating that he did not completely agree with the idea.

"I called Cameron. She will be in soon," he said.

"I'll brief her when she arrives." Cuddy replied.

"Mrs. Warner. Dr. Cuddy," Foreman nodded to us and headed off towards Nuclear Medicine.

Cuddy's pager vibrated, and she looked at the message. "They've taken him to the ward. He wants you there."

"Are you coming?"

"No I think I'd better wait for Florence Nightingale."

I nodded and as I moved towards the lift Dr. Cameron arrived. Any hope she might have had of being the one to comfort House in his hour of need faded as she looked at me. I saw her look down towards my hand and realized that I was still holding the photograph of the little Orang gazing lovingly into Greg's eyes as one tiny finger rested gently on his lower lip.

As the doors of the lift closed I felt a moment of sorrow for the girl who had imagined House as central to her future. I put the photograph into my purse. Right now I could not think of the past or the future. I had to be right in the moment, living moment by moment as Greg again did battle with his failing body.

Greg was in a private room, and as I arrived a nurse was closing the blinds. She was about to bar my way when Wilson beckoned me in. Chase and Foreman nodded as I entered. Greg was lying prone on the bed, naked but for a light towel placed over his buttocks. His body was rigid and the tendons in his outstretched arms stood out. His hands, which had coaxed so many beautiful melodies from the piano, now gripped the mattress at the head of the bed. Wilson addressed Greg, letting him know what was happening.

"Stacy's here." the patient moaned in response. Wilson went on, "We are going to move the bed out from the wall and put a chair there for Stacy so you can see her." Greg gave a slight nod of his head. Wilson and Foreman moved the bed and Chase placed the chair for me and I sat down. My hands went around his wrists and when he felt them he let go of the mattress and turning his hands placed them around my wrists. He raised his head those mesmerizing blue eyes fixed on me. I looked at the hold we had on each other.

"Remember when we went to the circus. The trapeze act?"

"Yes. You are holding me in a catcher's grip. I feel safe like that flyer." His eyes held mine.

"Stacy we have to manipulate his legs to see the what is involved," Wilson said and I nodded not breaking eye contact with Greg.

"I won't let you go, darling," I promised. As Wilson and Foreman lifted his left leg his grip became like a vice and his eyes filled with tears "Aaagh," the grunt of pain made me catch my breath more then the pressure that suddenly crushed my wrists.

"L4-5 and L5-S1 below the knee Greg?"

"Yes. Sorry Stacy"

"It's okay you didn't hurt me. Jim that was his left leg," I looked at him with worry.

"I know. The good one. It's pressure on the sciatic nerve causing pain to radiate down the leg" Wilson explained then he addressed Greg.

"Are you ready to go again?" This time it was even worse. The physical exam of both legs took over half an hour because towards the end he needed more and more time to recover from each manipulation. I only let go of him when he could no longer register that I was there and they were readying to give him pain relief, put him in a gown, and roll him onto his back.

Wilson looked at my wrists. Greg's hands were still imprinted on my skin and my watch fell off in Wilson's hand. The band was broken. "We'll get you some ice for those" Wilson said, giving me a small sad smile.

I shook my head.

"Not right now. I don't want him to know he hurt me." Wilson understood immediately. When House hurt him he seldom let it show.

Slowly the morphine took hold and the pain subsided. "Stacy" he said softly.

"I'm right here."

He turned his head in my direction. Exhausted, he looked exactly as he had when Cuddy had induced the coma. I pushed the memory out of my head as I pushed the chair as close as possible to the bed. I lay my arm across his chest and cupped his bristly jaw in my hand.

"Can I kiss you Greg?" I asked.

"Oh God, Stacy. Please." The catch in his voice didn't come from physical pain but from emotional need. Gently, lovingly, and deeply we kissed, and then his breathing steadied. I felt his tongue relax against mine as he fell into a painless sleep. As I took my mouth away from his I wasn't aware of the others in the room.

I didn't think of the past, I didn't think of the future. I just stayed in the moment watching Greg's face as he slept.


	2. Chapter 1

A couple of people correctly but post-emptively commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part One**

Written by Magdala

Editor/beta: Taruia

PART ONE

I was about to log off the computer and head home to Mark when I noticed I had mail. I clicked on and saw a message from Greg. Like all his emails it was cryptic and not something I could ignore. "Stacy. We have a problem please come to my office before you leave for the day."

I hit reply. "On my way can't be long though. Guests for dinner." I hit send and then logged off. I picked up my coat and briefcase and left my office; as I was halfway down the corridor I heard the phone ringing. I paused and it stopped so I continued to the lift.

"Hang on ... hold it!" A voice called as the elevator doors slipped shut. I held the door with one hand and pressed the open door button with the other. "Thanks" said Cuddy as she entered the lift, holding the door for Wilson who for some reason was carrying a red lollipop. If he hadn't looked so serious I would have laughed.

"Emergency?" I asked.

"Hope not." said Cuddy. I stepped back as she and Wilson exited the lift first. Their pace was one of haste, and I watched them go with more then a hint of curiosity. As I stepped out of the lift after them I realized where they were going. As they rushed into Greg's office I felt my heart miss a beat.

"Give me a number." I heard Cuddy say.

"Nine" it was more of a yell. I had heard Greg scream in agony before, and the sound was one I was painfully familiar with.

"When did it hit you?" I could clearly hear to concern in Cuddy's voice.

"On the hour."

"Twenty minutes." said Wilson and then he addressed Greg gently "Here suck on this."

I looked through the closed glass door of Greg's office; he was half lying across the yellow recliner chair. Wilson looked up and saw me. "Get in here Stacy we need your help"

"Hold the end of this for me ... make sure he doesn't crack his teeth" I did as I was told holding the ludicrous lollipop in his mouth, but removing it swiftly as he struggled to speak.

"The bin … the bin."

Wilson understanding immediately what he wanted positioned the trash bin so he could throw up into it. It wasn't his first bout of nausea. His hands shook on the sides of the bin. The pain brought on the nausea and each retch increased the pain. He was close to passing out when he finished weakly spitting bile from is mouth.

"It's alright, Greg." said Wilson wiping his mouth with a tissue.

"Get that back in his mouth" Cuddy snapped.

"But it's a lollipop" I replied, somewhat confused.

"No, darling. It's Oral transmucosal fentanyl a pain killer" He held onto my arm as I replaced the lollipop in his mouth and as Wilson and Cuddy straightened him out on the chair and gently lifted his legs onto the footrest he, bit down on the lollipop stick, clasped me to him and buried his face against my neck. I could feel his tears, as they darkened my silk blouse, and his body shaking against the insult it had suffered.

Both Cuddy and Wilson had heard him call me 'darling,' but thankfully hadn't commented on it. He was clinging to me and I never wanted to let go of him again. He pulled his mouth away from the lollipop.

"Stacy I'm sorry I've been such a shit." He whispered, pain filling his every word.

"Yes you have but it wasn't your fault."

A sharp intake of breath and Wilson guided the lollipop back into his mouth. "It's for breakthrough pain, Stacy. It's absorbed faster through the membranes in the mouth" Greg's eyes closed and he lay with his head cradled in my arms.

Cuddy looked at Wilson. "I'm admitting him."

Wilson nodded. Cuddy walked around Greg's desk and dialed his phone. She held the phone to her ear as she handed the blood pressure unit on Greg's desk to Wilson. As Cuddy arranged for a gurney and admission; Wilson took Greg's blood pressure. "What were you doing down here?" Wilson asked me

"I told her to come down," mumbled Greg. "We got mail?"

Cuddy pointed to a partially unwrapped parcel on Greg's desk. "It's addressed to both of you."

"Greg said we had a problem."

"Whoever addressed this thinks you are married to each other." Cuddy answered my non-question.

"Audrey died" he opened his eyes and looked at me. "God Stacy. I've been so stupid" I couldn't stop myself I turned and kissed his forehead.

Wilson was not as circumspect as Cuddy as he put the blood pressure kit back on the desk, he looked at one of the photographs. It was Greg holding the baby Orang Utan at Singapore Zoo. He held it up so that I could see it. I reached out and Wilson handed it to me.

"Pain getting any better?" he asked Greg

"About a seven"

"Good"

"What's wrong with him?" I asked.

"I think it's a herniated disc," said Greg.

Cuddy and Wilson exchanged a look. They were worried.

I held the photograph so that Greg could see it. Despite the pain he smiled.

"I love you" he said and closed his eyes. I rested my lips on his forehead and did not move as I cradled him while we waited for the nurses and the gurney to arrive.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Three**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART THREE

I felt gentle hands placed on my shoulders and reluctantly I turned from watching Greg sleep to look into Wilson's concerned face.

"He should sleep for a couple of hours, Stacy. Is there anything you need to do?"

Like face my life? Like call my husband? Like drive two hours to finish dinner with the group of schoolteachers who Mark counted as his friends? Sure I needed to do all of that, but what I needed more than anything was to be with Greg. Greg was what I needed. He had always been what I needed, from the moment I met him, and now probably for the first time I knew he needed me.

"No there's nothing I need to do," I said too sharply.

"Stacy. I'm not judging you," he said.

"Sorry, Jim. Really, I am sorry."

He guided me away from the bed and out of the room so we could talk without the fear of disturbing Greg or being overheard.

"Is this my fault Jim?"

"No Stacy it just happened," I could tell that he was concerned not just for Greg, but for me as well.

"You think it's more than a disc though?"

"At least we know it's not another aneurysm, but there are a few things we have to rule out."

"Like cancer?" I asked.

"Not necessarily. The reason I am treating him is that in oncology we are experienced in dealing with breakthrough pain. It has to be dealt with quickly. It can't be under treated, because then it develops into chronic pain and he has enough of that already."

"So he won't suffer like he did last time?"

"I hope not. Stacy are you going to be able to stay around?"

I nodded.

"Marital lies aren't all that easy. I should know." Wilson said with a humorless smile. "He needs you, Stacy. He won't push you away again."

"You don't know that," and nor did I.

"I guess I don't, but I want you here," said Wilson.

"I thought you would want me anywhere but here." I had always assumed that Wilson was jealous of my relationship with Greg, and I thought deep down, that he blamed me for the decision that had compromised Greg's life and happiness.

"All I want is for House to recover, and for that to happen, he will need to want to. I don't think he will want to unless you are here, Stacy."

"I still love him." I said, and as my tears started to fall he took me in his arms.

"I know. I know."

Jim Wilson's friendship with Greg was utterly selfless; it always had been, but this was the first time I really understood.

"He is very worried about that letter he received from that law firm," he said finally.

"What letter from a law firm?" I had heard nothing about this.

"The one on his desk, the one addressed to the two of you. The one with the photographs. Could you take a look at it?"

"Yes. Can it be brought up here?" I didn't want to get too far away from Greg at this point.

"Better not just in case it is a real concern. You have a full hour until he wakes.

"Singapore was much more than breakfast with a monkey, wasn't it?" He continued after a moment's pause.

"It was our honeymoon, Jim."

"You weren't...?" Jim looked at me intently.

"No we were going to get married when we got back home. But then the infarction happened and I used the proxy. He told me to forget all about Singapore ... and I did. I totally forgot it..." That was exactly what had happened.

"Until you smelt his after shave five years later," he said. It wasn't a question.

I nodded.

"You realize what you are describing? Erasing such an important memory is a symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome." Again I could hear the concern that laced his words.

"No I didn't."

"I didn't realize just how much you'd been hurt. I'm sorry Stacy. Are you sure you are going to be up to this?"

"Quite sure. Absolutely sure. Don't push me away."

"I won't push you away. You have my word. I just wish I could speak for House." We both knew the man far too well to think that this would be easy.

"It's his choice. I will never interfere with his choice again." I squeezed Wilson"s hand. "I'll go and check that letter."

"I'll call you if he wakes."

I leant against the back wall of the lift and closed my eyes the way that Greg did. Post Traumatic Stress, that explained a lot, I had handled a couple of pro-bono cases for veterans of Afghanistan and Iraq. We had an automatic affinity but I hadn't realized why. When the door of the lift opened I stopped thinking about myself.

Dr. Allison Cameron was in Greg's office. She was using his computer, and when I entered, she immediately looked up with a guilty half-smile.

"I'm just answering some of his letters. I haven't touched that one that is addressed to you as well. I promise."

"It's okay. I am just going to look at it now" I said.

"How is he?" she asked.

"He's asleep right now Dr. Wilson is with him." I pulled the package towards me seeing the English stamps with the Queen's head on them. I looked for a while at the first line of the address. 'To Dr. Gregory House and Mrs.Stacey House c/o' I thought I would open the covering letter from Lethbridge and Hawkes Solicitors first. I knew the address well; it was in the City of

London just near the Inns of Court.

"You don't often see this," I said to Cameron turning the envelope round so she could see the red blob at the point of closure.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Sealing wax. This is a very traditional firm. Does Greg have a letter knife?"

"I doubt it. He hates opening mail."

"This'll do," I said spotting a nail file lying on the desk. Greg must have had the same thought about preserving the seal before the pain hit him. Then I noticed he had opened the envelope. I removed the letter, which though computer generated was on thick decal-edged paper. Greg had obviously read some if not all of it. It advised us of the death of their client Audrey

Tillson and explained how Mrs. Tillson had lived in a free-hold property owned by Mrs. Phillipa Fox-Robinson, which now on her death was bequeathed to Dr. Gregory House and Mrs. Stacy House in accordance with the wishes of late Mrs. Fox-Robinson.

Together with the letter was a copy of the title deed to the property and a photocopy of a letter legally written accepted as a codicil to her will, signed by Phillipa, and witnessed by the manager and a member of staff of the Mandarin hotel in Singapore. That and the letter she wrote to me must have been the last two things that Phillipa did in Singapore before she died. I realized I had left my brief case in Greg's office, so I placed the letter and the deeds in it.

Then I spread out the photographs on Greg's desk and looked at them. Most of them were of Greg and myself, or Greg and Phillipa, or the four of us and of course the baby Orang Utan. Then there were several photographs of a charming house set in a romantic garden. It had two stories and immediately I knew Greg would never live there I put those photographs with the deeds in the briefcase.

I noticed Cameron looking over trying not to appear to be snooping. Her interest was in Greg dancing with me.

"I lied to you about Greg. When you asked me what he was like before the infarction. I said he was about the same that wasn't true. He was totally different. Totally."

"I thought so." She said with relief.

"He's been cruel to you hasn't he?"

"It's not his fault," said Cameron leaping to Greg's defense.

"It doesn't make it alright though."

"Do you want to look at these photographs?" I asked her.

"Is it alright?"

"I don't see why not," I said. It was better for her to see them, than to wonder about them and possibly ask Greg about them later.

Foreman entered with the news that Greg was awake and wanted to see everyone.

"I was told not to go up there by Dr. Cuddy," Cameron said, clearly wanting to go, but trying not to be completely obvious.

"Well House said the whole team and the white board. Oh and you too, Mrs Warner."

Cameron took charge of the white board knowing that if she had hold of it, her entry to Greg's room was guaranteed.

I smiled at Foreman's retreating back as I picked up the photographs. Clearly in Foreman's eyes I fell way below the white board in importance.

I picked up my brief case and followed them out, closing the door behind me.

I turned for the lift as the doors slid shut. Foreman and Cameron were not waiting for me.

But when I reached the floor and headed down the corridor towards Greg's room, they were waiting outside with the white board. It was Foreman who spoke first.

"Doctor Wilson said you were to go right in."

I had expected to find Greg sedated and relatively pain free, but that was not how it was. He was obviously in intense pain; and his hands were clenching and unclenching on the sheets. He was pleased to see me, but as he spoke my name it sounded more like a stifled cry. He reached for my hand with his cannular free hand. I was beside him in an instant, his hand in mine.

"Greg I cannot believe you are rejecting drugs," said Wilson.

"I know, I know. You have to treat the patient appropriately and deal acute pain before it facilitates the remodeling of the nervous system," he was gasping; the words coming in spurts rather then full sentences.

"Greg please," begged Wilson.

Wilson only called him Greg when he was desperately worried.

"Just enough to take off the edge. Not so much that I can't think. We have to find the underlying cause ... all of it."

"That's what the white board is for?" I asked, gently stroking over his knuckles and down his long slender fingers.

"Yeah and Dr. Mandingo, the wombat, and the little girl. I need their input."

"Go easy on Dr Cameron. Don't be sexist, Greg"

"So I should just stick to racist should I?"

"You're rehearsing"

"Yeah," but the pain was getting to him. "God it hurts," he gasped.

Wilson drew up the drug.

"Show me," Greg commanded, and Wilson showed him the amount in the syringe. Greg nodded and Wilson injected the drug via the cannula.

"Won't I be in the way?" I asked.

"No," said Greg his eyes closing for a moment. "I need you."

The only other time I had heard him use those three words together was when he said, "I need you to talk to the doctor." That was when he wanted me to ask them to put him into a drug-induced coma. I had failed him then by exceeding his instructions. Now I was going to do whatever he wanted me to do, even if it killed him, because this time I knew it had to be his choice.

I kissed his hand, that beautiful hand, which had once caressed every part of me.

I heard Greg talking to Wilson his voice still catching, as the drug had not kicked in. "Give us a minute, then let them in."

I felt Wilson's hand squeeze my shoulder comfortingly as he replied to Greg. "Will do."

Greg turned his face towards me. Those blue eyes held me.

"Did you look at that letter?"

"Uh huh and it's nothing to worry about." I tried to sound as reassuring as possible.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me I'm a lawyer. Seriously, it's completely straightforward."

"I haven't changed my will since you left, Stacy"

I winced. I couldn't stand hearing him talking about his will. I did not want to be told I was still heir to everything; including the piano and no doubt Steve the rat.

"Stop worrying about who will look after Steve. For the sake of that little rat just concentrate on what is happening to you, darling. That's all that matters. What is it you and the team have to do?" I tried to hide the fear that was slowly creeping up on me.

"Find the underlying cause; all of it, everything. It's going to be tough,

darling. Really tough."

I nodded. "I'll try not to cry, promise."

"Please, because that might make me cry too. And I don't want to look like an idiot in front of my staff."

Wilson looked down at his friend.

"If you're making jokes does that mean you're ready to face the troops?"

Greg nodded, even though he was far from being pain free.


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Four**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART FOUR

The white board was empty and the diagnostic team under Foreman was quiet and subdued. Foreman wrote Herniated Disc on the white board.

"Differential diagnosis people?" Foreman said; immediately embarrassed at using a key line, which clearly belonged to House. He looked down at his shoes, causing Wilson to suppress a laugh.

"We already know that's what it is. House diagnosed it and the MRI confirmed it," said Chase.

"Do you think it's something else?" asked Cameron.

Greg let out a grunt I could tell by his increased pressure on my hand that it was a grunt of pain. Suddenly they were all looking at him.

"Don't look at me for answers. 'Me' - patient. 'You' - diagnostic team."

They were uncomfortable, and I could feel Greg gathering his strength to galvanize them.

"With the exception of Dr Cameron. All of you in this room have seen my dick. Some of you have even had to touch it." A half laugh came from Chase. Greg turned his head away so they would not see the effort he had to expend to tell them what he needed and expected from them.

"Dignity is not an option for me now. You've heard me scream in pain and witnessed me cry like a baby. I need your damned help. I need you to do my thinking for me."

It had been too much for him, having to ask for help. Wilson stepped forward producing a lollipop which he placed it in Greg's mouth. I grabbed the hand towel and dabbed away the perspiration that had beaded on his face. Greg moaned.

Greg was respected for his mind some people even called him a genius only Wilson and I had seen him in pain this bad. So bad that this man, renowned for his brain, could no longer think. A muffled sob from the other side of the room. It was Cameron.

Greg pulled away from the Lollipop. I was expecting him to be cruel. When he did speak words came out staccato, but they were gentle. "Don't cry Cameron. I need you here because you care, but I also need you for your brain."

Greg pulled away from the Lollipop. I was expecting him to be cruel. The words came out staccato but they were gentle. "Don't cry Cameron. I need you here because you care. But I need you for your brain."

He had said just the right thing to Cameron. Because she led the way. His kindness has surprised her so much that she addressed him directly.

"Why do you think there is something other than the herniated disc?" asked Cameron.

"Because I slipped on the ice this morning and fell. Then fell again in my office. That's what blew the disc."

"But you'd been having breakthrough pain for more than a week." said Wilson

Greg nodded. Was about to speak but instead he gasped.

"Why the hell didn't you say something about falling?" Foreman demanded.

"Good question but your timing's way off." said Wilson clearly indicating Greg was not up to any hostile interrogation.

Wilson handed me the Lollipop, which I returned to his mouth.

Greg had said just the right thing to Cameron, because she led the way as the team was spurred into action. They were speaking in phrases unfamiliar to me, but fully understood by Greg. I realized why he had chosen every one of them. Cameron cared; she wanted to put a stop to his pain. Chase was creative; he wanted to have the problem sorted fast, understanding that if Greg was immobilized for any length of time he may never walk again. Foreman was the cautious one, ensuring enthusiasm didn't end in a deadly mistake. The whiteboard filled and as bits were added other bits were wiped off.

Methylprednesilone was rubbed out on the suggested medication list. The words synnovial cyst went up under herniated disc. Then there was a phrase I had heard before which made Greg turn fearfully towards me "disintegration of muscle tissue and influx of myoglobin, potassium, and phosphorus into his circulation."

Wilson was quick "No we are not looking at the past insult to his body. We need to keep focussed on the current problem. We can't dismiss his history but it seems to have little do do with the herniated disc or the breakthrough pain"

"I think we have to schedule Microdiscectomy spine surgery immediately and stop this pain. We can worry about everything else later," Cameron finally sighed.

"It's normally a six week wait for that procedure," said Foreman.

"And what is normal about House? Wait six weeks and he'll never walk again," said Chase.

"What about fusion?" asked Foreman "I would prevent the risk of re-herniation.

"He has to twist and pivot to walk a fusion will compromise movement," said Chase

"That would only increase the current disability and probably increase the pain," said Cameron

Foreman looked at Wilson.

"Do you agree with a Microdiscectomy?"

"Yes and it has to be immediate," said Wilson

Foreman walked over to the bed and looked Greg in the eye. "Do you agree, Dr House?"

"Yes."

He looked at Wilson "How long since he's eaten?"

"Long enough" said Wilson.

"Do you know a microsurgeon he hasn't pissed off?"

"He's okay with microsurgeons you can have your pick"

"New York a problem?"

"No. Cuddy said 'anything, anyone, anywhere'." Wilson confirming the order came from the top.

"Steigler?" Greg reacted to the name. Obviously it was someone he respected.

"Next you'll be handing round Yankee tickets," said Greg.

"You'll have to ask Steigler for those."

Foreman had scored a major point and he knew it.

"I'll call Steigler now."

He headed for the door and Chase followed.

Cameron was reluctant to leave, but just as she turned to go Greg called her.

"Dr Cameron."

"Yes."

"You made the right call. Thank you," said Greg and I saw the young doctor glow at his words. "I know there is more but this has to be addressed first. You were right."

I moved my hand away from Greg's so she could touch it. I nodded my permission. She took his hand in hers.

"We will look after you, Doctor House."

"I know." he said allowing his eyes to close. Cameron looked at Wilson who indicated it was time for her to leave she put down his hand and smiled at me.

"Thank you Mrs. Warner" she said and then she left.

Wilson leant over the bed and whispered, "She's gone. You can open your eyes now."

But the patient was asleep.

Wilson gently removed the Lollipop from his mouth.

"They might be small but they pack a wallop," I said.

"I use them for children with end stage cancer." He saw my look of concern "No he only fits the profile in the child area. I think he is right, I think there is more than just a herniated disc, but I am pretty sure it's not cancer."

"Why don't I go and get us both a coffee and we can sit in the corner, keep a careful watch on House, and you can tell me about Singapore," I nodded. I needed to talk so badly, and I needed to talk to someone who loved Greg probably as much as I did.

It was such a relief to talk, so good to be able to show Wilson the photographs of us in Singapore, and then at last I told him about Phillipa. For some reason I had always kept her letter to me in my purse. I never opened it; never read it once in the five years since Greg had said, "Forget about Singapore, forget about Phillipa. Nothing is ever going to be the same again."

"Isn't it extraordinary that you would forget a woman like that and still have her letter with you," said Wilson. "Are you sure you don't mind me reading it?"

"I don't remember what is in it." I answered.

"I'll read it out loud if you like," and he did. Wilson had a softer, more calming voice than Greg, and as he read the letter I looked at that last picture of Phillipa with Greg at Changi Beach.

_My dear Stacy,_

_Thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me in allowing my intrusion on your time with Gregory House. I can remember what it was like to be in love the way you are now and I am not sure I would have been as sanguine or welcoming to an ancient stranger. What you did not know, and I was not sure of until Audrey told me what you had said in the car at Changi Beach about Greg's previous visit, was that I had met him before._

_Indeed, I knew him in 1966, when he was a child. It was the first time I had been back since the war had ended. Greg was staying in Singapore with my friends Commander John Monteath and his wife Diana; a navy couple stationed at HMS Terror, the Royal Navy Shore Establishment. Greg's mother, a delightful woman, was in the hospital; her shoulder had been badly injured in a fall. His father was on R&R leave from Vietnam. Maybe it was the effect of the war over there but we all thought he treated his son very shabbily._

_His father didn't even attend the party Diana arranged for Greg's seventh birthday at the Officers' Club. Greg did his best to hide how terribly hurt he was. He told Diana he still wanted to do the party piece they had rehearsed for his father to hear. That poor little boy sang "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" with tears running down his cheeks._

_John Monteath was a clearance diver and a specialist in underwater mine demolition. He had met Greg's father when he gave a series of instructional lectures to the US Marine Corps, and he was furious with the man after seeing the way he treated his son. John asked me if I could stay with them and back up Diana in looking after Greg. John had to go to sea the following day and would be away for the next two months. I was more than happy to oblige because even at seven Greg was a bright and entertaining companion._

_You are probably wondering why he did not recognize my name. Well that is because no one called me Phillipa then. I was either addressed as "Pip", "Mrs. Fox-Robinson" or "Mem-sahib." The Raj was still alive, even though it was on its last legs. Greg called me "Foxy" because he thought it was funny and I loved it. I loved him too. I had a son who died when he was still a baby, and being around Greg helped me to recover in part from my own grief. If my son were alive today he would be 63. Had he lived, had he been anything like Gregory House, I would have been so proud._

_I am not surprised he grew up to be a doctor, or chose the specialty he did. I used to take Greg to the hospital each day to visit his mother. He was interested in everything, the equipment, what illnesses people had, and he displayed an almost ghoulish fascination with surgery. One day I left him with his mother as I went to get her a magazine. When I came back she was asleep and he was gone. He had told the nurse where he was and I found him speaking to a young man who was in severe pain. I asked if Greg was annoying him and he answered that the boy was taking his mind off things._

_On the way back to HMS Terror he told me about the patient who was scheduled for surgery the next morning. His leg was to be amputated because gangrene had set in following a poorly treated jungle ulcer. I felt as though my heart would break and I went to lie down. Greg spent that afternoon looking up things in the Encyclopedia Britannica at dinner he announced to Diana and myself that he was going to be a doctor when he grew up. We both thought he would want to be a surgeon, but he surprised us saying that he wanted to be a diagnostician. After he'd gone to bed Diana and I looked up the word "diagnostician" in the encyclopedia._

_Stacy, I wanted you to know Greg as I remembered him all those years ago. He was a wonderful child and I feel privileged that I was able to see what a fine man he has become. Thank you again for so generously sharing Greg with this ancient stranger. He loves you so very much and I believe he has made the right choice in asking you to be his bride. Look after him; he is such a remarkable and talented man._

_Noel Coward said, "We have no reliable guarantee that the afterlife will be any less exasperating than this one, have we?" and I know that Greg believes that white lights and visions are just symptomatic of the brain shutting down. However, I am hopeful that there is an afterlife because at last I feel ready to live again. If there is an afterlife I will send you back to Greg if you turn up first, and if Greg turns up before you I promise that if I am able, I will turn him around and send him back to you._

_Bless you both._

_Sincerely,_

_Phillipa._

Wilson faltered with emotion several times while reading the letter and I found myself sobbing against his shoulder.

"Stacy" Greg said quietly.

"Darling I'm sorry. We were trying to be quiet,"

"It's alright. I heard Wilson read the letter right from the beginning. Audrey told me about how Phillipa and Foxy were the same person right after you left. But hearing her words. God she was a wonderful woman."

"Was that young man the reason you wouldn't allow an amputation?"

"Yes, Phillipa didn't know but I used to go and see him everyday after the operation. The gangrene spread and they kept hacking more and more off. When I last saw him he was delirious and the room reeked of rotting flesh. The next day he was gone, and the bed was clean and empty; it was as though he had never existed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Five years ago pain was a new to me. It frightened me. I couldn't think properly, my leg hurt so much. I knew I couldn't win an argument with a lawyer. And there you were begging me to live for you. But I loved you too much for that. I knew better than anyone how much damage there was I could smell it. I wanted to die and have it over with."

"You don't want to die now?"

"Not anymore. Not when I look at you, Stacy. I've been so cruel to you. Sorry darling, I am so sorry."

"It okay?" I kissed his forehead.

"Can you be there when I wake up?"

I nodded "I'll sit in that little waiting room I sat in with you and I won't move until I get noticed and everyone knows how much I care."

I expected Greg to smile but he didn't maybe he didn't like the reminder of us waiting as Mark was going through the exploratory operation. But it was more than that.

Greg actually looked frightened.

I stroked his face.

"I am not going anywhere I promise" I said.


	5. Chapter 5

A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Five**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART FIVE

I was sitting in the waiting room outside operating theatre, thinking of them cutting into Greg. Frightened for him, but knowing it was his choice this time. If he thought it was right, it would be right. I pulled the envelope with the photographs out of my purse and started to look through them.

"I was told it's double milk and now you take sugar," said Cameron. She startled me I hadn't noticed her come in she apologized for surprising me as she handed me the coffee.

"Last time I sat here it was with Greg while they did the exploratory operation on Mark," I said.

Cameron nodded, sitting down with her coffee.

"I thought you'd be in there," I said. Since I had worked at the hospital I had noticed that while everyone thought of Greg as a solitary man, he was often surrounded by his team. He could be cruel and mean but they respected him and Cameron, well she loved him.

"Chase is assisting and Foreman is in the Gallery. You know what's happening?"

"Steigler ran thought it," I really didn't want the details of the operation I just wanted it over. But I did want to talk about Greg. I had opened up to Wilson and now I wanted other people to know about my time with Greg. I handed some of the photographs to Cameron. I knew she wanted to see them. It occurred to me that if I denied her she might ask Greg about them and I didn't want that. So sharing them, telling her of our experiences in Singapore seemed the better idea.

"I've never seen him smile like that," she said. She was looking at the one of the shots of Greg with the baby Orang Utan.

"That was at Singapore Zoo. No one ever gets to hold the baby, but Greg talked to the keeper and asked if they spoke to Ah Meng, she's the big Orang, in Malay. They told him some of the things they said to her and ... well you know what he is like with languages. When he sat down he looked at Ah Meng and told her she was a beautiful lady in Malay. She handed him the baby just like that. It was incredible, a real privilege," looking at the tiny Orang Utan me smile spontaneously and I noticed it had the same affect on Cameron.

Cameron looked as each shot carefully. "Dr. House looks so happy."

"He was then. We both were."

She turned to the next shot. It was a full length one of us dancing together on the verandah of our suite at Raffles. The young doctor's jaw dropped open as she looked at Greg in his white tuxedo, and me in that wonderful black full-length evening dress. The dress was swirled out as Greg dipped me back over his arm. "He was the most wonderful dancer."

"Was it like your husband said? Did you leave him because of the limp?" She was almost accusing me.

"Of course I didn't. You must know him well enough to work out what happened," I said. Cameron thought about it and nodding seemed to understand.

"He pushed you away didn't he? And you still love him and he still loves you," Cameron was certain she had it all worked out.

"Who knows how he will feel when this terrible pain has gone and he just has his usual pain," I concentrated on drinking my coffee blinking to keep tears at bay.

Then Allison Cameron told me about how he had seen me lie beside my husband on the hospital bed after Greg had cured his paralysis. She told me he looked devastated and she told me how she had thought he was too screwed up to love anyone, but she realized the reason he could not love her was because he loved me so much.

I just let her talk it out. She told me about going to see the Monster Trucks. She told me how Vogler had tried to destroy him, and how she had resigned, and her condition for returning. She also told me what he had said about her attraction to him; how he thought it was because he was damaged. She realized I had told him to ease up on her and thanked me. And I thanked her for leading the meeting and caring so much.

"Greg needed you so much so much last night when you were all working on the white board. I just wish someone like you, with a brain and a heart like yours, had been around when he had the infarction," I said. "He might have been diagnosed in time. They might have just been able to restore the circulation. He might have been all right and I might never have had to sign the proxy that allowed them to mutilate his leg. You were at that lecture he gave, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Will you tell me about it? Please. Wherever I go in this hospital I get odd looks from the students and some of the medical staff. I know it is connected to that. Please Allison, tell me what Greg said."

"I think it came as a shock because he has always been so private. Anyone mentioning his leg or asking how he was only ever did it once, and there he was opening right up. Of course there were no names but everyone there had to know it was him."

"I saw him for the first time just before he went in to give that lecture. I had just told him I was married and Mark was sick," I told her and she looked shocked.

"What did House say?" she asked, putting the photographs on the seat beside her.

"He said he wasn't sure he wanted to treat him because he wasn't sure he wanted him to live," I said, registering her concerned expression. "Then he went straight into the lecture. He was terribly hurt, I don't think it had occurred to him that I might marry."

"I didn't get into the lecture hall until they had their first break. I heard a couple of the students talking about it in the ladies room. They were rushing off to bring in the students who normally avoided the lecturer who was sick that day."

As she told me what had gone on, I realized what a state I must have left him in. Obviously it during that lecture that he decided to treat Mark. I was surprised how detailed her memory was, and worse still how clearly Greg had remembered everything. It was exactly as I remembered it. Every terrifying moment.

Cameron put her arms around me, and I put mine round her acknowledging our mutual understanding and concern for the man we both loved.

I though we were alone in the room. I didn't notice anyone enter. Then I heard the squeak of the rubber wheels of a chair stopping on the linoleum. It was my husband Mark

"A writ of Habeas Corpus was it? Or have you gone back to your old dancing partner?" The harsh sarcasm surprised Cameron. "Oh don't stop hugging my wife Dr Cameron I would much rather she was into girls than this."

Mark had picked up the photograph of Greg dancing with me from the chair beside Cameron. He held it up shaking with fury. Even sitting in a wheelchair he looked dangerous.

"I know House is sick; one of the nurses thought I should be told what was going on."

Mark turned the photograph around and looked at it with distaste; then he ripped it in half, dropping the half that contained my image in the wonderful black dress. Then slowly and cruelly he ripped the image of Greg into tiny little bits.

For the first time since our marriage, I was frightened of my husband.


	6. Chapter 6

A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Six**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART SIX

Cameron stood up immediately. Very much the doctor, she sought to immediately establish her authority.

"Mr. Warner. This is not the time or the place."

"Oh the cute doctor. Another one in love with him." He put his hand back on the wheel rims, pushing backwards. I just sat staring at him. Cameron moved towards him, but he wasn't going to let her touch the chair. He moved it forward. Fast. Really fast.

I was almost not quick enough. If I hadn't lifted my legs up, and swung them over the chair beside me, he would have driven the footrest straight into my leg.

"You're quick, you bitch. What you afraid of? Having a bum leg like him? That what you're scared of ... or not being able to walk like me?" There was deadness in his eyes and his voice was cold with fury.

"You are going to be able to walk Mr. Warner." Cameron had taken charge of the chair and was pushing my husband out of the waiting room.

"House put me in this damned thing!" he yelled, turning his head to look at her. "House and my loving wife there. You're sick, you've got to see him, '...he can cure you, my dear' she said. Yeah and now I'm in this chair."

"He did cure you," said Cameron. "You will be out of that chair soon. You would have died if Dr House hadn't taken your case"

"Oh yeah. Well after I've told my story he won't be messing with anymore patients." He hadn't taken in Cameron's words. His anger was feeding on itself.

I knew I had to stop this right now. I chased after them and told Cameron I would take it from there. As she moved her hands from the chair so I could take it, she said to me under her breath, so I could only hear, "Do you want me to call security?"

"No. His therapist," I whispered back. I started to push Mark as fast as I could out of the waiting room. I hurried into the corridor and headed for the lift.

"Where are we going, wife?" He asked. "All that talk of your lover make you hot?"

"Shut up," I said. But that was all I dared say I had to try to keep everything even. I knew that showing annoyance would only make his anger increase.

"Shut up, eh. You married me for better or for worse. Welcome to the worse." Mark spat out,

As we arrived at the lift, the door opened to reveal Wilson who was about to get out. I mouthed 'Don't move" and he instantly understood, moving back so I could push Mark into the lift and turn the chair around so it faced the door.

"Hi Mark, therapy day? What floor, Stacy?" asked Wilson stepping around the chair to press the lift button.

"Uuhm." I hadn't a clue then I made a quick decision, "We're going to my office," I said, and Wilson pressed the button. The doors closed and the lift moved.

"How cozy. Here I am stuck in the lift with both of House's lovers."

Wilson laughed at him. "I have a hard enough time with the women in my life without turning to House for love." he said trying to lighten the mood.

"You think a school counselor isn't smart enough to know things?" Mark turned his head to me. "Let go of my chair, dammit."

"So you can take another run at my leg? No way."

"Think I might break it next time?" Mark challenged.

Wilson clenched his jaw. Then he pressed the red 'stop' button, and stood in front of the lift controls looking straight at Mark. He was establishing that he was in charge, and I relaxed a bit, feeling much safer.

"Okay. What's going on?" Wilson asked looking straight at the furious man in the chair.

"One of the nurses rang him and told him to come in." I said.

"She thought I should know what was going on." Mark said as though he was the injured party.

"And what did she tell you was going on?" asked Wilson in a calm professional manner.

"Why should I tell you? You'd already know?"

"What I want to know is why you are here and why you are threatening your wife?"

"Because she is my wife. Mine and nobody else's."

"And you cannot talk to her like that. Nor can you threaten her. What century do you think we are living in?" Wilson pressed the restart button, and indicated that I should move away from the wheelchair. He placed his hands where mine had been on the handles.

"Like you're the expert on marriage. I've heard about you." He seemed to have switched his attack to Wilson.

"As least I have never verbally or physically abused my wives," Wilson said calmly.

"Maybe your wives have never gone after Greg House" he spat out Greg's name. "Cuckold. That's the old English term. You never been cuckolded by your wife and your good friend House."

"Save that for group therapy, Mark" said Wilson and then turned to me.

"Stacy if you get out on the next floor you can get back to what you were doing. I'll stay with Mark and make sure he gets to therapy or has a ride home."

"Thanks, Jim," I said, but as a stepped forward, Mark grabbed my wrist.

"Ouch" I couldn't hide the pain in my voice. My wrist, bruised from Greg's grip, was starting to show color.

"What happened to your wrist?" Mark asked. As he looked at the wrist his anger seemed to dissipate.

"I hurt it." I said.

"I'm sorry." Mark looked really concerned. Truly upset for what had just happened.

"I am so sorry," he said.

"I know you're sorry. I'll see you later alright?" I said the door opened. A bunch of students were waiting to enter the lift.

"Yes see you later," Mark said, and he winked at the students. "What, no kiss my love?"

I leant down to kiss him on the cheek, and as I did his hand came up and he hit me hard in the face. The blow was hard enough to throw me against the wall of the lift. I saw the surprise on the students' faces.

"Call security" Wilson ordered. "Look after Mrs. Warner."

"Yes Dr. Wilson ... yes sir" the chorus confirmed his orders would be followed to the letter. One of the female students took me to a chair, and one of the males grabbed his pager. Instead of continuing on their journey, Wilson wheeled Mark out of the lift past us all.

"I am taking him to my office," Wilson said making sure everyone knew where they would be. "Tell security."

The tallest, strongest looking male student fell in beside Wilson "Want me to come too?"

"Good idea," Wilson answered.

The student opened the door of Wilson's office and held it. Mark started to look anxious.

"I don't want to go in there," he said.

"Tough," said Wilson allowing his disgust with Mark's behavior to show.

Mark started to flail his arms grabbing for the wheels of the chair trying to take control of the situation But the big young student was too quick for him grabbing his hands and holding them.

"I have a ride waiting. I was brought in by a friend?" said Mark worried for the first time that he might be in trouble.

Seeing the fracas I called to Wilson. "Cameron's calling his therapist, Jim,"

"Good." Wilson called back. "The more the merrier."

And with that Wilson and the student got Mark in the office and closed the door.

Two of the students were looking at me, "Does it hurt Mrs. Warner?"

"I think I'm just shaken," I answered.

For a while they examined my face; careful not to ask why he had hit me. Simply dealing with the injury. My face felt hot, but as yet it did not hurt. The lift opened and a security guard and Dr. Cuddy emerged.

"They are in Dr. Wilson's office," said one of the students. The security man wasted no time in entering.

Lisa turned to me.

"He hit you?" asked Cuddy who seemed surprised that violence would occur in our marriage. "Your husband hit you?"

"We all saw it. It was a closed fist," confirmed the student beside me.

"Was it the first time?" Cuddy wanted to know if this was a one off event of part of a pattern of spousal abuse.

I shook my head. It was not the first time. The first time I thought it was because he was ill. I thought it was the same reason the second time.

"I thought it was because he was ill. I thought it was a symptom."

Cuddy looked at her watch as she addressed the students. "You had better go to your lecture now. I don't want you discussing this alright?"

They nodded their agreement. It took several minutes for them to leave, as there were too many students for the two lifts. The girl student who had first taken care of me said, "I hope it doesn't hurt too much. It was assault you know that?"

"Yes I do. I'm a lawyer."

"I'm sorry ... I didn't mean..." she didn't mean to presume to tell me to press charges or leave my husband.

"It's alright. Thank you for being so kind. You were one of the student's at Dr. House's lecture weren't you?" I knew she was because she fitted Cameron's description. She nodded.

"Doctor Cameron told me about the lecture. You were right. It was wrong of me to use the proxy against his wishes," I said.

"We heard Dr. House was in surgery and Dr. Steigler was here from New York?"

"The surgery went well. He's just going in recovery. Dr. House will be fine," said Cuddy to the student, and relief flooded over me as I too heard the news.

"He's been through so much." The student gave me a sad smile and walked into the lift. As the doors closed I turned to Cuddy.

"And Greg doesn't think they care."

"He knows they care he just can't cope with the fact they care."

I nodded of course Cuddy was right.

"You should go now so you can be there when House wakes up," Cuddy said. "We'll look after your husband."

"But Mark is my husband, I have to deal with this. He is my responsibility." I said.

"This is my hospital. My legal counsel has just been assaulted by a patient, and my top diagnostician will soon be coming round from an operation. House won't want to see any face but your's when he opens his eyes. Leave Mark to us okay?"

I nodded and stood. Cuddy accompanied me part of the way to the lift.

"Right. Get down to recovery and get someone to ice that for you, okay."

I stepped into the lift and as the doors closed I saw Cuddy knock on Wilson's door.

I felt my face where Mark had hit me. It was tender. I looked at myself in the reflective panel around the lift buttons. My cheek was reddening, and there would probably be a bruise. It was no worse than the other times he had hit me and I knew how to handle it.

Makeup had become my friend. Like Greg's Vicodin it masked my pain and allowed me to do my job.


	7. Chapter 7

A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Seven**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART SEVEN

This was the third time I had sat by his side in recovery, waiting for his eyes to open. Every time I had been frightened, and this was no different. The first time I was frightened for him because I didn't know if he would even survive the operation, let alone the pain that would follow. The second time I was frightened of him, and how he would react to what I had done by using the proxy.

And now five years later I was frightened for Greg, but I was also fearful of what Mark could do. If he could get to me and hit me in front of a group of strangers what was he capable of? What might he do to Greg? I was fitter and faster than Greg when he was well, but now he was helpless, and while Mark professed to love me, he openly loathed Greg.

I had iced my cheek, but it was puffing up. I had put makeup on, but the bruising was showing though. I sat on the side of Greg's bed, so when he woke he could see as much of my face as possible without seeing the damage. I had pulled my hair forward so it covered more of my face.

Dr. Steigler came though, still in his scrubs. He looked at me first holding my chin and lifting my hair. Obviously he had been told what had happened. "You sure can pick em. Mind you the bastard that did that makes House look like an absolute sweetheart," He put my hair back. "Try not to let him see that."

He went round the other side of the bed and turned his attention to Greg. He clicked his fingers near Greg's ear. "House wake up. House." He claps his hands. "House" ... nothing.

"Greg. Greg." I said, and his eyelids slowly opened about halfway and then closed again. "Greg, darling, please wake up."

His eyes opened slowly, he was dazed from the anesthetic, but he looked at me and squeezed my hand before drifting off again. His mouth was moving as though he was trying to talk.

"He wants water, he gets frantic when his mouth is dry. If I could just give him some ice?" I'd finally had to beg for ice after the second operation. This time I didn't even bother to ask I went directly to begging.

Steigler signaled to the nurse, who came back almost immediately with some ice in a saucer and a small cloth. I picked up the ice in the cloth and put it to Greg's lips. I gently rubbed the ice over his dry lips, and he opened his mouth as I let the final sliver of ice fall into his mouth. I picked up the next one with my fingers.

"They're clean I washed them carefully before coming in here." I explained to the surgeon who smiled back at me. I put the next piece of ice into Greg's mouth. Holding it between my first and second fingers I was able to guide it over his tongue and around his gums.

"Careful of your fingers, there might be a bit of residual pain and he could bite down." He said. I removed my hand, but I wasn't scared of Greg. I knew he would never hurt me physically.

Greg's eyes half opened, "Hey," he said like he has said so many times before,

"Hey," I answered.

Steigler checked Greg out; pulse and blood pressure, "How you feeling?"

"Okay" His voice was rough barely above a whisper.

"Any pain? The nerve roots had taken a battering." Steigler said gently. It was obvious this surgeon cared.

"I can manage," said Greg. Maybe he was not fully concious, trying to be brave for me, or just being stubborn. But Steigler would have none of it.

"You don't have to manage. You have pain you tell us. Understand?" This was so different that Greg, even foggy from the anesthetic, appreciated the difference.

"There's pain," he said with a slight grunt.

"Give me a number?"

"Six"

"Right, I'll give you something now, and then we will get you back to the room."

Greg looked at me. Careful to hide my bruises I couldn't look at him face on.

"Are you going to stay?" He asked cautiously, trying not to plead or sound desperate.

"If you want me to," I said with equal caution.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Steigler was injecting morphine via the cannula, and could not help overhearing.

"I want to stay," I said "You must know I want to stay."

"Everybody lies," he was testing me, it was light hearted but still a test.

"House that's crap and you know it," Steigler said matter-of-factly as he removed the empty syringe.

Greg smiled.

"Some people find repetition annoying." I purred matching his smile.

"I love you," he mumbled.

"You can repeat that as often as you like," but Greg did not hear, he was asleep.

Steigler addressed me.

"He'll probably sleep for about four hours," He looked at the clock on the wall. It showed about 11:30 am.

He guided me out of recovery to a corridor where Wilson was waiting. They nodded to each other, but Steigler kept talking to me.

"I'm guessing that by now you've had no sleep, missed about three meals, fallen in love again, been the victim of spousal abuse, tanked a marriage and about now you should be heading into fear of the future ... I think you need protein. Tell me the best restaurant in Princeton, and once I have proper clothes on I'll make Dr Wilson take us there."

"She doesn't know the best restaurant in Princeton but I am happy to take you both there. Go change, I need to look at her face." Wilson obviously liked Steigler as well as respecting him.

"Just remember it's not cancer, Jim. Pick your specialist, and you pick your illness." With that said, the micro surgeon headed off suddenly. I called after him.

"Hey. Do you play the piano?" I asked.

"Yes, but not as well as Greg." He answered.

I smiled.

"What was that about?" Wilson asked.

"His hands. They are like Greg's."

"Come over to the window. Let's have a look at that cheek. God Stacy. You're wearing more makeup than Dolly Parton." He said amused by the thickness of my makeup.

"I didn't want Greg to see it." I explained.

"Like he wouldn't notice you'd put your makeup on with a trowel." Wilson sat me down and held both of my hands and looked directly at me. I could see their was something terribly wrong."

"Stacy. Greg knows what your husband is capable of doing."

I looked at Wilson in horror.

"Greg didn't slip on ice yesterday morning, Stacy. Mark was waiting for him in the parking lot. Mark ran the chair into him like he tried to with you."

"My God, Jim. Is he mad?"

"No Stacy. I think he's just bad."

"So that was why ...?"

"Yup and we thought Greg was the crazy one."

Of course. Greg hadn't said anything, but it explained his snooping. Copying the clinical notes, attending the group therapy session. He'd even saved Steve McQueen from Mark. But he couldn't save himself.

"How did you find out?" I asked

"Mark told me. He was quite proud of it. He thought I would understand. Sociopaths have a tendency to think everything they do is justified." To Wilson Mark was no longer a person who should be helped but a dangerous psychopath and they are untreatable.

"After Foreman heard what had happened to you. He let me know Mark had said some rather crude things regarding you when House took over the questioning to check his memory." Said Wilson substantiating House's reasons for snooping. "Foreman thought House was at fault at the time but him hitting you made Foreman see it in a new light."

"Where is Mark now?" He was the last person I wanted to see and the last thing I wanted to cope with.

"You are exhausted you can't go near that man in this state." He said but I was worried and thought I should do something. Wilson must have read my mind.

"There is nothing you need to do now. I did a House. I dosed him. It's okay, he's safe, he's sleeping it off in psych awaiting assessment." Wilson could see this worried me. "Stacy I had to make sure he didn't have another go at House."

"What am I going to do?" The stress was getting to me. I was glad I didn't have to see him right away

"Cuddy's handling it, you don't have to do a thing. Stacy, your husband has attacked two valued members of the staff here, and caused serious injury to one of them. We have other lawyers and Cuddy is with them now."

"Does she need to see me?"

"No she needs you to be strong, and nutrition seems to be high on the list of essentials. After we see what's under that mask you are wearing."

Wilson took me into a consulting room in the clinic where he gloved up, washed the makeup off my face, and checked the damage. "Tender?" he asked touching it. He took a flashlight and looked inside my mouth, and up into my cheek. "You must have bled a fair bit into your mouth?"

"I think so, but I was on my way down to Greg." I said.

"Tissue's still in your purse?" He asked and I nodded, taking them out and putting them into his gloved hands.

He could see it had been pretty nasty. He took a look at the blood stained tissues and dropped them in the bin.

"No chilli for you at lunch, or lemon. Your teeth have cut up the inside of your mouth. Give them a wiggle will you. Make sure nothing's loose." I felt around carefully.

"No they're okay," I said with relief.

"This is just saline." He swabbed the interior of my mouth with saline. "You will have to keep this clean. I'll give you some saline solution to have with you. Just as well there was nothing broken you don't even need stitches. You were lucky."

He pulled off his rubber gloves and dumped them in the bin. Then he asked the key questions.

"What do you want to do Stacy?" He said.

"I don't know?" And the awful thing was I didn't know.

"Are you one of those women who believe that men like Mark can change?" he said without emotion.

"I don't want to see him ever again. I know I'll have to, but I don't want to. He was nothing like the Mark I met and married." I said.

"Maybe it was the first time you saw the real man," he said. "House is reckless but he brings out the truth in people."

"I won't hurt him again. I promise you that."

"You'd better not because there isn't going to be all that much time to fix things."

"You aren't saying."

"No I'm not saying he is dying, Stacy. But the facts are these. The infarct damn near destroyed him. It certainly aged him. He isn't young anymore. Chronic pain and the effort and posture involved in walking has put extra stress on his skeletal structures and his heart meaning he could suffer arthritis or bone damage, or a heart attack. The drugs he takes have put his kidneys and liver at risk." Listing the facts had brought Wilson close to tears for a moment he looked away from me and I was the one comforting him.

"Stacy unless he has a helluva lot of love and care, I don't know if he will ever see old age."

I don't think Wilson had really ever dared think that far ahead for Greg. He put his arms round me seemingly to give me the comfort I so desperately needed. But Jim needed my arms around him too. I could feel him shaking.

The prognosis for Greg was bad but there was something else too. Wilson knew it and I knew it. The break through pain. What was that coming from. Wilson and Cuddy together with the Greg's team were working on that but so far there were no answers.

I had been with Greg long enough to know how doctors compartmentalised their lives in some ways lawyers did too. I knew however deep Wilson emotions were at that moment they would be back under tight control before we sat down to lunch

Before heading out for lunch, I went and washed and reapplied my makeup. As we drove into Princeton, I asked Wilson to stop at the most distinguished men's store in town. I got back in the car with my one small bag. Wilson smiled and reached out an open hand to the micro surgeon in the back seat who put a fifty-dollar bill in his palm.

"After shave?" asked Wilson.

"Yes," I said. Wilson added the fifty to his billfold. "You two were betting on my shopping?"

"The same aftershave you gave him in Singapore?"

I pulled a sample of the fragrance on a paper swatch from my purse and handed it to Wilson.

"I knew you'd want to have a sniff."

"uuhm Nice. Is it French?"

Steigler reached for the swatch and looked blissful as he inhaled.

"Should have more of this sort of thing. I never seem to work on patients who smell good."

Wilson laughed for the second time that day, but this time he seemed happy.


	8. Chapter 8

A couple of people, correctly but post-emptively, commented that this story should be betaed despite the fact it was marked as FIRST DRAFT. I have now posted the corrected chapters of LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS.

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Eight**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART EIGHT

I didn't realize how tired, or how hungry, I was until I sat down in the restaurant. The two doctors decided I needed steak, and even though the filet could have easily been cut with a butter knife, it hurt to chew. My companions were concerned by my discomfort, but assured me it was normal after the hit Mark had delivered.

I was happy to not have to make any effort in the conversation. It was high-level doctor stuff, and I only became involved when they discussed Greg's pain management. Both agreed he needed a 'holiday from pain,' and felt they might be able to achieve it if he was carefully monitored.

We didn't linger over lunch, despite the elegance of the surroundings, it was no more than an intake of fuel. Afterwards, the manager handed Wilson his car keys, and asked him to give Dr. House his regards and hopes for a quick recovery.

We went straight from the restaurant to the place I had rented in Princeton. Both of the doctors came in and waited in my living room for me to shower and change. I looked at the spreading bruise; there was nothing I could do hide it completely. Both men looked at me admiringly as joined them, ready to go back to the hospital.

"I couldn't cover the mark I look like a battered wife." The bruise on my cheek looked painful and angry.

"You _are _a battered wife," said Wilson and for the first time I realized it was true. I had covered up so often for Mark. Whenever he threw something I cleared it away, and when he hit me I put on more makeup or sunglasses. After every burst of violence the evidence was removed as though it hadn't happened.

I realized I had fallen into the trap. Early in my career I did some pro bono work, which often involved spousal abuse. I had noticed the problem then; the wife cleared away the mess her husband had made, and at the same time her memory was wiped clear. I won the cases for them when I stopped them from cleaning up.

"I don't want Greg to see this." God, the women I had helped made that sort of excuse to me, only with them it was 'the children mustn't see this.' I looked at Steigler. "You thought he shouldn't see it."

"That was before I knew what he had done to Greg," he answered.

"You can't lie to Greg," said Wilson. " Also, you'd better grab anything you value. Mark might get himself lawyered up, and this would be the first place he would come."

So they had been guarding me. I went into the bedroom, and packed a small case quickly then I went into the bathroom and cleared my toiletries and perfumes into an overnight bag. I rushed back into the bedroom, and did a last check of the cupboards and wardrobe. I was about to shut it when Wilson grabbed my thick winter coat.

"Ready?" he asked

"Ready," I said.

"Got everything you need for the next few days?"

"I've got everything I need. It doesn't matter if I never come back." Wilson smiled and then he kissed me oh so gently on my bruised cheek.

"Trying to kiss it better?" I asked.

"Well it's worth a try." He gave me that smile he often gave to Greg it was teasing, understanding, funny and slightly sad all at once.

"I wish I could kiss Greg better." I said.

"It's bound to help him, Stace," He picked up my case and we headed out of the door.

I looked at the house as we drove away, and knew at that moment my marriage was over. Wilson must have known it too because he took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it over mine.

Greg was still asleep, and Chase was with him watching and waiting.

"No problems. No pain either, he has been sleeping," the Australian reported.

"Were you able to get the bloods" asked Wilson.

"Yeah we're doing the whole shebang. They went to pathology an hour ago." Chase then noticed my cheek. "They told me he got you too."

"Everyone knows then?" Somehow I had it in my mind that no one would have noticed that Wilson was the only other person who really knew what had happened.

"He decked you in front of twenty-five people. You can't keep a lid on that." said Chase. "For what it's worth public opinion favors you and House getting together again. And so do I."

"Out" Wilson barked at Chase, who left grinning. I wasn't sure how I felt about everyone knowing, but it was good to know they thought Greg and I should be together. It was the first time I had dared to hope for such a thing. Greg had given me so many mixed messages and his behavior had seemed strange even childish towards Mark but now the reason was clear.

I loved Greg more than life itself, I wished so often it had been me who had the infarction and not Greg. I sat down and looked at Greg. Pain had etched lines into his face, and weight loss made his fine, soft skin seem almost loose; resting on the bone and cartilege of his face and skull. I loved his face. Asleep, he looked so peaceful, his large eyelids crinkled as his eyes moved below them.

I opened the gift wrapped box and took out the bottle. I put some of the after shave on my hands rubbed them together and stroked them over the stubble on his chin and neck. I left one hand against his cheek, feeling his unshaven jaw against my palm, and the smooth skin of his temple with it's soft regular beating pulse under my fingers. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to crawl onto the bed beside him, hold him, and nestle against him.

A nurse entered with a bed bath pack. "Oh sorry. I was about to wash him," she said.

"Go ahead," said Wilson. The nurse looked at me, unwilling to continue with me in the room. "It's alright."

Greg turned his head and kissed the palm of my hand, which was against his face. Then his eyes fluttered open.

"Stacy?" I had hated my name all my life until I met Greg. It had always seemed one of those rough hard edged names until Greg said it and then it was like a caress. I was amazed by the different emotions Greg could put into my name. This time there was just one and it was love.

"Right here Greg," he turned his head, and looked at me. His eyes fixed on my cheek, and he was suddenly, painfully, alert.

"What happened to you? Who did that to you?" His eyes filled with concern; the bruise appalled him.

"It was Mark. He got me too." Greg shut his eyes for a moment.

"Why did you say you'd slipped on the ice? He was waiting for you in the car park he attacked you. Why didn't you report him?" I asked.

Greg opened his extraordinary blue eyes and looked directly at me.

"Because he's your husband, and because I thought I had driven him to it. Oh God, Stacy, I never thought he would lash out at you. Does it hurt?"

"A bit," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry," his eyes were tearing.

"Pain?" asked Wilson.

"Don't worry about me, has anyone checked out Stacy?"

"I'm fine, Greg. Honestly. It's just a bruise and there's a small cut inside my mouth, but everything is fine." he reached out with both hands and pulled me to him enfolding me in his arms. He felt so wonderful; his body against mine.

"I don't think you should be moving like this," I said frightened he would harm himself or I would hurt him.

"It's okay darling. Microdiscectomy didn't change the mechanical structure of my lower spine. This time they had the good sense to bring in an artist, not a plumber to work on me."

I couldn't see him from where I was, but I knew Steigler would be smiling.

"Greg. You should know. I've left Mark." I said it simply. With no more emotion than a newsreader delivering a small item on the news of the hour because that was all it was to me.

"Really? You mean it?" Greg asked and I nodded. It was much more important to him.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Is there anyway I can kiss you without hurting you." He urgently wanted to be even closer.

"If you are very, very careful," gently he put his lips to mine, but was careful not to open his mouth. Then he gently kissed the bruise, as Wilson had done, and then he just held me to him. I could feel his heart beating, and the air enter his lungs. It was followed by a shuddering intake of breath as he was hit by a sudden onslaught of pain. Dread flowed through me like a wave in the North Atlantic.

"Give Jim a number, Greg" I shivered fearing the answer.

I could feel the rumble of his voice.

"It's about an eight, Wilson"

"That's the breakthrough pain. That's not the spine." I heard Wilson reply.

"Yes," Greg answered.

Oh God.


	9. Chapter 9

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD at http/malaquent. . I also thank MacNMolly for her invaluable information on microdiscectomy spine surgery.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Nine**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART NINE

I held onto Greg as Wilson administered the painkiller through the cannula and Steigler gave Greg a rundown of the microsurgery.

"I shaved the back of the disc and removed a small portion of the inside facet joint. I also removed a Synnovial Cyst. It's clean as a whistle in there now but it'll take a couple of weeks to a month minimum for the damage to the nerve root to heal."

"There's no more pain from the sciatic nerve," offered Greg.

"I think the gating mechanism is taking care of that. There may be some pain and numbness or weakness. They'll try getting you up later," Steigler put his hand in his pocket and fished out some tickets. "Foreman said these would help your recovery."

"Yankee tickets. Hell yes." He was obviously pleased with the gift but unable to hide the pain that still plagued him. As the words came out he gasped his eyes shutting. The drug had not taken effect.

"It is one of the perks of my profession." A renowned expert in sports medicine, Steigler was famous for saving and prolonging the careers of many athletes. "Your team already has theirs. Call me when you are coming and I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment."

He touched Greg's arm. Indicating it was time for him to leave.

"Thank you," Greg said quietly and sincerely. He was still waiting for the drug to take effect.

"Look after yourself and stop being such a damn hero, okay? If you don't let them know what's going on they can't fix it."

Greg nodded, giving the appearance of complying, because he knew that was the reaction the microsurgeon wanted.

"Steigler," Greg paused. Steigler moved to the bed bending over Greg who then continued. "Tell Wilson denial is not a river running through Egypt."

Steigler nodded his agreement and turned to me. I stood up to say goodbye to him. He realized Greg's last words had worried me.

"Don't let him worry you he's tougher than he looks" Steigler said putting a hand on each of my arms he continued, "Lovely meeting you, Stacy" He kissed me on my unbruised cheek, then he turned to Wilson who was looking pale and upset.

"Righto, Wilson can you lead me to Cuddy's office she wanted a word before I went back to New York."

"Sure," Wilson said and looked at me. "He should be asleep in a few minutes."

Then he and Steigler headed out of the room.

"Come closer," said Greg unable to manage more than a whisper. As I moved towards him, he again pulled me as close as possible while I remained seated in the chair. My arm was around his chest and my hand on the far side of his face. His eyes were getting heavy and I was exhausted. I don't know which one of us fell asleep first.

When I woke the room was full. Greg's team was there; together with Wilson, Cuddy and the white board. Written at the top of the board were the words osteoblastomas, osteoid osteomas and vertebral hemangioma

Greg was wide-awake, but seemed pain free. Realizing I had woken up he turned his head so he was facing me. "Hey."

"Hey," I answered.

"You're exhausted. You need proper sleep in a proper bed. Dr Cuddy has everything arranged for you." He said lovingly his eyes sweeping my face like a caress.

Cuddy stepped forward. "You are going to my house. You will be safe there and I will fill you in on what has been happening on the way there," she said.

"But shouldn't I stay?" I really didn't want to leave Greg. I looked at Wilson. I had never seen Wilson so pale or so obviously worried. I thought of what Greg had said to Steigler _"Tell Wilson denial is not a river running through Egypt."_ So that was what the breakthrough pain was. It was cancer.

"Oh my, God," I said out loud.

Greg spoke to me gently "We have a lot of work to do here. This time you can't help. I need you to be with me when you are fully rested, because I want you to go through that legal stuff from England with me."

I nodded. _"Cancer cancer cancer" _echoed through my brain. I couldn't speak and didn't even dare to kiss Greg in case I lost it. I let Cuddy lead me out into the hall; scared to even look again at Wilson's face. Cuddy got an assistant to collect the luggage I had moved out of our rented place in Princeton and the large envelope from the Solicitors in London.

I wandered silently to her car and it was not until we were on the highway that I opened my mouth.

"It's cancer. Isn't it?" I asked dully.

"It's one thing that must be ruled out," Cuddy answered carefully.

"Wilson thinks it is. He looks terrible. He looks frightened," Wilson by the look of him thought his friend was dying and that he would be able to do nothing to save him or help lesson the agony.

"Wilson is really too close to Greg to be treating him, of course he is frightened. I am bringing in a consult. Cancer is just one of the things that has to be ruled out. You must believe me, Stacy. There are hundreds of things that could have caused the breakthrough pain and we have the best diagnostic team in the country. Led by the best diagnostician." I had heard her give medical news before and this time it just washed over me. Now I knew this was because she needed to assure herself even more than me.

"Yes, one of the most brilliant minds in the republic, but Lisa, when the pain gets too bad Greg can't even think. Last night he had to beg the team to do his thinking for him." I knew my voice had an edge to it. I could feel myself getting upset.

"I know. Dr. Cameron told me." Of course Lisa knew everything that happened in the hospital.

My eyes filled with tears and my brain traveled five years back in time. They took more than dead muscle away when they operated on Greg for the second time. They cut away his trust, his freedom and his optimism. They took his strength, courage and humor leaving only pain behind. Maybe it was the middle ground surgically but I knew they had cut to the very boundaries of his ability or desire to survive.

I thought I was saving his life. I was told by Lisa that I had saved his life. For Greg it wasn't living. It was a life sentence imprisoned by chronic pain shackled permanently by his mutilated leg.

"Do you know what he said about Steigler?" I asked Cuddy.

"No" she said nervously.

"Greg said 'at least this time they had the good sense to bring in an artist and not a plumber'. We both failed him five years ago. Didn't we? "

"Yes" she admitted. "But we will not fail him now."

"If it isn't too late," I said bleakly.


	10. Chapter 10

I thank Taruia for so kindly offering to edit my work. You will see how much a good editor gives to a writer's work without imposing their own words or attitudes on the text. Taruia is a fine editor and she is also the person who provides us with those invaluable transcripts of HOUSE MD.

This story is a continuation of my previous fic "Breakfast with an Orang Utan" therefore the characters behave in character with their shared experiences in that fiction as well as their shared experiences at PPTH as seen on HOUSE MD. All characters from the series HOUSE MD are the property of the producers.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Ten**

Written by Magdala

Editor/Beta Taruia

PART TEN

I was too tired to talk, so as Lisa Cuddy drove towards her home I relaxed into the passenger seat and closed my eyes.

I dreamt of a full-length concert grand. The soloist, resplendent in white tie and tails, threaded his way through the string section and flicking up his tails took his position on the piano stool; unnecessarily adjusting it away from and back to it's original position. I turned to Greg to comment, but found the seat beside me was empty, and became immediately fearful. When I looked back at the stage, however, I realized that Greg was seated at the piano. He was the soloist.

No man ever looked ugly in full evening dress but none ever looked more handsome than Greg. The lighting of the concert hall that made the brass and the horns glimmer and the wood of the violins, viola, cello and base gleam, picked up the golden lights in Greg's hair. His tan made the winged collar of his shirt and his hand tied bowtie even whiter than those worn by members of the orchestra.

I thrilled at the sight of him. I knew I was dreaming but I loved the beauty of it and was content to just be there.

The conductor's baton rose and fell as I watched Greg's elegant hands cover the keys and heard the orchestra swell with the first movement of Brahms 2nd Piano Concerto. I had always loved Brahms and had always felt Greg could play that concerto well enough for the concert stage. He made the piano sing. The keys became liquid under the touch of his long sensitive fingers. I loved to look at those strong certain hands that knew every part of me.

I pulled the opera glasses out of my purse. Greg had given them to me when we first went to the Met together. I focused them on his glorious sinewy hands as they danced, caressing the essence of Brahms' dream from the piano. Then his hands began to shake he lifted them from the keys.

Something was wrong. Moving the opera glasses aside I saw him wrap his arms about his trunk and grimace. He swiveled on the piano stool trying to protect the audience and the piano from the sickness of his body as he contorted and wretched. The piano seemed to react with a sad discordant sigh. Again, I looked through the glasses. There was blood on the keyboard.

It looked like coffee grounds, but I knew it was blood. Just as I knew, without looking, that when the conductor's baton fell to stage, it had fallen from the hand of James Wilson.

The dream had turned to a nightmare and I faught my way out of it jolting myself awake. Lisa had pulled over, stopped the car and was talking into her cell phone.

"We'll come straight back. Endoscopy? You found free air on the X-ray. Yes ... Yes I'm turning now. You sure you want me to keep the line open? I'll have to switch to hands free. You know Stacy is with me?" While carefully maintaining her professional control it was obvious she was alarmed. Obviously she felt she should remind them of my presence so no said something untoward.

She switched over to hands free and started turning the car around, so we could go back to the hospital.

I heard Wilson over the phone's speaker.

"Stacy can you hear me?" His voice was trembling.

"Yes" I said, "What's happened?"

"Greg's condition deteriorated sharply about twenty minutes ago." The information came from Dr. James Wilson Oncologist the emotion came from Greg's closest friend. Unable to maintain his professional detachment Jim was suffering too.

"Did he hemorrhage?" I asked. I was aware that Lisa's head snapped around in surprise.

"Yes ... we've got him on whole blood and if that doesn't do it he will go straight into surgery. He wants to talk to you. Hold on." Then I heard his muffled voice speaking to Greg, "She's on the line now. Don't talk too much. No I'll hold the phone... go ahead, Stacy."

"Greg darling. Don't try to talk we'll be there soon and I'll see you then." I was holding back tears.

"I think we've found the cause of the breakthrough pain." There was a hitch in Greg's voice and I knew he too was holding back tears.

"I think I'll be in the OR before you get here." I couldn't tell whether he gave a grunt of pain or a sob. "I love you," he said, in exactly the same way he had said it before going into the induced coma. It was his way of saying goodbye.

"And I love you too," I said. There was a change in the ambient sound, and then Wilson was on the phone.

"It's me again. Greg can't hear us now."

"Jim is it cancer?" I asked. All I wanted was the truth.

"I hope not." He said. He sounded desolate.

"Jim, go back to Greg. He needs you with him."

"I'll look after him as best I can. Stacy."

"I know you will ... do you need to speak to Lisa?" But he had already severed the connection.

"Apparently Greg thinks it is a peptic ulcer." Lisa said.

"Then that's not too serious is it?" I asked with a sigh of relief.

"It might have perforated. That could be the cause of the hemorrhage. That's why they have to go right in and can't do an endoscopy first. This is might require aggressive surgical intervention." she explained.

"Greg thought it was cancer," I said, trying to hold onto the hope that this was so much less than cancer.

"Yes. Gastric adenocarcinoma cannot be ruled out," explained Lisa, dashing that hope. "Also there's a very real possibility of erosion into the pancreas, the liver, the bile ducts and either of the intestines."

"You're saying he could die." I said. Again I wanted the truth so I didn't have to face any more surprises.

Lisa nodded. Never taking her eyes off the road in front of her.

A police siren made me aware that Lisa was well over the speed limit.

"Shit," said Lisa "All I need is to be held up by the cops."

"Pull over," I ordered. I didn't know if Lisa might for a moment think that she could outrun the police.

The policeman took his time getting out of his car and walking up to ours. Lisa showed him her license and her ID and said we were attending a patient who was critically ill. This didn't have much effect on the officer even though he credited a doctor at PPTH with saving his wife's life. He mentioned that no one else there could figure out what was wrong with her.

"The doctor who saved your wife's life. Was he kinda mean? Did he walk with a cane? Was his name Gregory House?" I asked. It was worth gambling, the policeman was about to fill in the citation for speeding.

"Yes. He's the only person from your hospital I'd help out. They were ready to send her home." He was ready to give a rundown on the failings of the others, but I interrupted him.

"He's the patient. Dr. House could be dying."

The cop snapped his book shut. His reaction was immediate.

"Don't worry, I'll get you there," the big uniformed man promised.

We were on our way in seconds; Lisa had to fight to stay up to speed with our police escort. The cop whose wife Greg had saved drove in front, siren blaring, clearing the road ahead of us. While another police car came alongside, waved us on and dropped behind every time the road narrowed. They lead us up to the ambulance bay.

The policeman who had stopped us on the road spoke to Lisa and she handed him her car keys. He opened her door. Lisa got out and he got into the driver's seat adjusting it for his height.

"Anything you need from the car?" he asked me. I grabbed the envelope from England as I was about to get out he looked at me, "You tell Dr House we'll be praying for him."

"I will," I answered.

Lisa and I rushed to the elevator. She hit the button. "That cop threatened to put out House's lights more than once when his wife was here."

"Why am I not surprised?" I answered.

"How did you know he'd hemorrhaged, I didn't say anything about it, even when I thought you were asleep?" She asked. This moment's calm between floors had been her first opportunity to ask me about this since my conversation with Wilson in the car.

"I often dream of Greg. That is one of my nightmares."

When the elevator doors opened they were just bringing House down the corridor towards us to take him to the Operating Room. His face was drained of all color; he was shaking with fever and sweating profusely. I knew the medical terminology he was acutely and severely ill. Yes 'acutely and severely' both words mean the same thing but when doctors want to say things are really bad they are happy to repeat themselves and even lapse into redundancy.

Wilson, who was walking alongside his friend, leant over and spoke to him. Greg's eyes fluttered open.

"Stacy," he said. There was absolutely no strength in his voice but still he was able to lift my name out of the ordinary. I thought of Stephen Sondheim's lyric for the song 'Maria' in West Side Story _"Say it loud and there's music playing, Say it soft and it's almost like praying."_ The way Greg said my name was almost like praying.

I thought of the big tough cop who would be praying for Greg in the parking lot. Then I looked down at the frail and suffering man I loved so completely. He was too weak for further speech. I had never seen him look so helpless or felt he was so close to death. For the first time in my adult life, I found myself praying.


	11. Chapter 11

LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part 11

With thanks to Benj and Soaranteagle, cutterdog, Astras 2003, sasmom, hughfangirl333, Master of Hugh, Auditrix, Armchair Elvis and all those who wrote in the _Episode 2.13 Spoilers thread on Devoted to Hugh _and _Why Vicodin thread on House Fans_. Without the input of their discussion I could not have written this chapter.

PART ELEVEN - FIRST DRAFT

Greg's breathing was shallow his eyes were shut. The only indication of consciousness was a small groan as the bed hit the door track as it was wheeled into the elevator. I hung back thinking I was in the way.

"Here Stacy" said Wilson indicating I should stand beside him. His hand was on Greg's shoulder I touched Greg's hand and his long fingers reached out for me. I put my hand in his and immediately felt the pressure of his grip. His head jerked and Wilson quickly placed a kidney dish beside his face. The nurse supported the dish and Wilson held Greg's head as blood gushed from his mouth. I looked on in horror, hardly noticing him crushing my hand in his. The elevator doors opened and Greg released my hand

"Sorry." Greg mumbled.

"It's alright," said Wilson, "Not long now. You'll be in the OR in a minute."

Greg gave a weak nod and the nurse wiped the blood from around his mouth. Wilson accompanied Greg as the wardsman and nurses rushed him towards the OR.

Cuddy was holding the elevator door for me to exit. But I didn't.

"Oh God. Oh my God" I said, it was not a prayer or an indication of belief, I was simply voicing my horror of what was happening to Greg.

"The surgeon? An artist of a plumber?" I asked.

"An artist."

I gave Cuddy a look that said I would kill her and the surgeon if they damaged Greg further.

Dr. Cameron was in the waiting room with coffee for Cuddy and myself.

"It was the Vicodin wasn't it?" I put it as a question but it was more of a statement.

"Yes." Cuddy answered.

I looked directly at Cameron.

"Can you tell me exactly what has happened?" I asked Cameron. I knew she would not lie to me because I knew how much she cared for Greg.

"The breakthrough pain came from a peptic ulcer but the pain presented in his spine and right shoulder the referred pain made him think the problem was skeletal. He was not aware of the ulcer because he is so used to nausea. It's side effect of vicodin and a symptom of chronic pain. One of the injuries he received in the parking lot was a blow to the stomach but the pain from the herniated disc masked its potential seriousness. Just after you and Dr. Cuddy left, the ulcer perforated and the gastric contents spilt into the abdominal cavity. This caused him to suffer severe abdominal pain and he vomited blood. We could not do an endoscopy because it could have worsened the spillage or disrupted any seal. But an XRay show clear air."

"Thank you." I said taking the coffee and sitting down. I had no idea what clear air meant but that was not my main concern.

"How will he survive this?" I asked. I meant if he did live how difficult would his life be. But I was too tired to say that

"Well all surgery..." Cuddy started on the standard speech.

"No the truth. Not the standard in-flight safety drill. I've heard that too many times." I knew I had to control my anger.

"We hope he will survive," said Cuddy.

"Do you mean living or mere survival?" I asked. "His life has been hard enough what is this going to do?"

Cameron answered "He was involved in the diagnosis. He agreed to the laparoscopic ulcer repair. All tissue will be biopsied. After the operation he will be placed in Intensive Care where Dr Chase will monitor him and will, if necessary, place him in a chemically induced coma. Dr Foreman and I are consulting with specialists in pain management in order to find an alternative to the Vicodin and other supportive treatments."

"We have tried to get him off Vicodin, Stacy." said Cuddy

"Yes I know. You made a bet with him. Did you think his pain was some kind of a hobby?" I knew I was losing it Lisa Cuddy was putting her hospital administrator look in place. She was ready to reprimand me but Wilson had come into the waiting room, his arms encircled me.

"Stacy it was me not Cuddy who was responsible for that." He said apologetically.

"Why. Why did you put him through that? He smashed his hand. The only thing he had left outside his job was music and he smashed his hand." I probably knew more than anyone else in that room just how much the piano meant to him. What playing the piano meant.

"I was wrong. Stacy. I was just plain wrong." Said Wilson with heartbreaking candor.

"He would be dead now if it wasn't for the music." I said knowing it was true.

"I know. I know." He held me close and I could feel him shaking. "I know just how much damage I did. Stacy everytime I see Greg in pain I wish it was me going through it and not him." I pulled back to look in his face and saw his gentle brown eyes were filled with tears he was desperately trying not to shed.

The silence of the room was awful. Then the cellphone in my purse rang. I thought I had turned it off but for a moment I was glad to answer it in order to avoid the tension. I did not even look at the caller identification. "Stacy Warner. PPTH Legal."

"Stacy. You have to get them to lift the restraining order" It was Mark, anxious and frightened wanting me to make all his troubles go away. But this time I couldn't and wouldn't clear up after him.

"It is out of my hands, Mark," I said coldly.

"Hang up." said Cuddy obviously worried. She had not filled me in on what had happened with Mark and I had not asked. But Mark had unwittingly told me everything I needed to know to bring me up to speed.

"I cannot have this conversation. It is inappropriate for me to speak to you at this time. You will have to wait the lawyers to meet. Goodbye Mark." I switched off the cell. I might have sounded cool detached and totally professional on the phone to Mark but I couldn't get it back into my purse and I felt my knees start to give way.

"Greg said you needed rest. He was worried about you." Said Wilson holding me up. He nodded at Cuddy and Cameron held up his pager to let them know they could contact him at any time. Then he took me out of the waiting room down the hall to the elevator and finally we were at Greg's office. He sat me down in Greg's big chair and lifted my legs up onto the footstool. There was so much of Greg within that chair. It had molded to his shape it had absorbed his scent. To lie in his chair was like lying in his arms. This was the chair, which gave him the most comfort when pain threatened, and it was comforting me now.

Wilson sat on the footstool beside my legs. Then he started to talk about Greg.

"He has an intimate relationship with his pain and he has always shut us out until now. He referred to it as 'my pain' not 'the pain' he took ownership of it. Vicodin worked for him while it worked for him. If this hadn't happened eventually his kidneys and liver would have tanked. He knew that. His biggest tragedy is the fact that he knows. He knows how bad the post-operative pain will be. He knows how long it will take after the disc surgery and the perforation repair to come close to the mobility he had three weeks ago. And that is if everything goes well in the OR and pathology don't find any nasties."

He could no longer hold back the tears. "Stacy. I have never had another friend like Greg. Not someone I cared so much about. I suppose you think that is odd. Two men."

"No I don't think it's odd." I said because I didn't. 'You are like two guys serving side by side in a war. You love each other, you trust each other and I know you'd lay down your life for Greg."

"It's a war alright and pain is the enemy." He made a halfhearted attempt to wipe away the tears. "You know what frightens me most?"

I shook my head but I had a fair idea.

"I am frightened of the day when he can't take it anymore and asks me to help him die."


	12. Chapter 12

With thanks to Benj and Soaranteagle, cutterdog, Astras 2003, sasmom, Noreen3, lauriefan, hughfangirl333, Master of Hugh, Auditrix, Armchair Elvis and all those who wrote in the Episode 2.13 Spoilers thread on Devoted to Hugh and Why Vicodin thread on House Fans. Without the input of their discussion I could not have written this chapter.

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS TWELVE – FIRST DRAFT**

They didn't let me see Greg until he was in the Intensive Care Unit. Both Cuddy and Wilson warned that Greg was hooked up to a myriad of tubes and machinery and said I should not be shocked by the way he looked. I nodded my acceptance and then turned to Cuddy.

"You'd better have this." I said handing her a sealed envelope. "It's my resignation. Open it if you consider it no longer possible for me to continue to represent PPTH in Legal Matters." Although I no longer held Greg's health proxy I would be free to be his advocate. And it was clear to me that if I was his advocate it was likely I would have to oppose Lisa Cuddy.

"Are you certain about this?" She asked but her relief was obvious. And I knew now that I could do what I had to do for Greg.

"Yes. Absolutely." I then entered ICU escorted by Wilson. I shivered at the first sight of Greg he was ashen. He scarcely resembled the man I knew. He seemed absent, looking more like a cadaver being kept artificially alive while waiting organ harvesting, than a survivor.

"Stacy's here." Said Wilson placing a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Stroke his cheek." Wilson told me and I did finding the small patch of skin free of the surgical tape that secured the tubes that entered his body through his nose and mouth.

Greg's eyes opened partially and for a moment they met mine but there was little recognition and then they closed again. I looked at Wilson I wanted more information.

"He'll be like this for the next day or so. He not in any pain, Stace. He is just very weak and it is going to take time."

"Can I kiss him?" I asked.

Wilson nodded I leant over the bed and kissed Greg on the cheek. "I want you better, Greg." I whispered to him. His face moved towards me and I noticed his eyes had opened again. This time there was recognition and this time a tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek where I had just kissed him. We looked at each other silently. Lovingly.

"Pathology was clear, House." said Wilson. Greg nodded seemingly taking in the information and slowly his eyes shut.

"Sleeping like a baby" said Wilson and guided me out of ICU as we walked down the corridor towards the elevator Wilson filled me in on the operation.

"It was a real mess. If it hadn't happened here, Stacy, he would've died." Wilson needed to talk about it, satisfying himself that everything had been done correctly. I reassured him that he had not failed his friend.

I had to get to my office. While I still had a job I had work to do. I remembered New Jersey was the only State, which regulated on the treatment of intractable pain. There was a copy of the legislation in my files I grabbed it realizing that while it mirrored the federal regulation on there were a few significant conditions which intending to delimit the treatment of intractable pain opened up a legal minefield to the medical practitioner. Opening the file I noticed that someone before me had been concerned with this issue. Concerned enough to clip a printout of a vital paragraph to the first page.

"_When protracted prescribing of narcotic drugs is utilized for the alleviation of intractable pain, practitioners shall remain alert to the availability of new or alternative types of treatment. The practitioner should attempt periodically to either cease the medication or taper down the dosage, or try other medication or treatment modalities in a regular and vigilant effort to reduce the addiction propensity for the patient. (New Jersey Board of Medical Examiners, 1993, p. 64)"_

The sentence had been underlined by hand and an angry note scrawled below. _"There is a difference between dependence and addiction! _

_Check out OPIOPHOBIA. _

_And for God's sake read Jacob Sullum's article "No Relief in Sight" in Reason. He writes "Torture, despair, agony, and death are the symptoms of "opiophobia," a well-documented medical syndrome fed by fear, superstition, and the war on drugs. Doctors suffer the syndrome. Patients suffer the consequences."_

There didn't need to be a signature I knew Greg's writing better than my own.

I went to the computer. There were about fifty emails from Mark, which I decided would have to wait. I opened up a search engine and typed in pain+management. I downloaded the Sullum paper read the reports of the Anesthesia Pain Service and other specialist pain management groups and then read through anguished letters and blogs from people suffering chronic pain. And then my eyes fell on a letter from an anonymous doctor about a colleague.

"_Everyday he attends work is an act of personal courage. This is a man without reserves of energy or fortitude so there is absolutely nothing left of him at the end of the working day. _

_He measures himself and manages his output of energy and intake of medication with care. But if any unforeseen physical or emotional event comes along he is at risk. It is then clear just how fragile he has become as a result of his original injury and the continuing under treatment of the severe pain he has now suffered for many years. He compensates by keeping others at a distance that they don't, won't, or can't see it._

_Some aspects of his personality indicate the chronic pain may have remodeled his nervous system. He may also be suffering from pseudo-addiction due to inadequately treated pain. He deserves more understanding but behaves in a way that leads some of his colleagues to believe he is addicted when all he requires is better pain control._

_He is irritable, acerbic and often appears intolerant but I consider it a privilege to be working with this remarkable and brilliant doctor."_

I hit print. I was certain the anonymous writer was Cameron and the subject had to be House. She and Foreman were seeking consults on pain-management once I had all the legal material together I decided I would share the information with her. I picked up the phone decided first to call Dr Steigler who had operated on Greg's spine less than twenty-four hours ago. I trusted him.

I got him on his cell. Hearing that breezy good-natured voice lifted my spirits. I didn't have to explain anything to him. "Stacy everyone on the eastern seaboard knows what is happening with House. You want to tell me what you have observed? We can meet."

"I can't leave here right now. I certainly can't take the time to get to New York." I said my mood plummeting.

Steigler laughed.

"Stacy, I am on my way to you. And I am bringing an old friend. See you in a couple of minutes. Chin up, okay." he hung up.

Two minutes later Steigler opened the door to my office.

"Surprise!" He said. By his side was a beautiful and stylish Chinese woman. "I think you already know the distinguished Professor Chan."

"Tink. My God, Tink" I had only spent that one evening in Singapore with Tink and her husband Julian who like Steigler was a microsurgeon. Even though we had not kept in touch, I had known then as I knew right then, I had met a friend for life.

"I am just printing out a paper of yours. I didn't know Professor Theresa Chan was you."

"Well I was just 'Tink' in Singapore. I was just here for a pain management conference in Washington and Julian and I decided to turn it into a holiday and spend some time with Joe Steigler and his family. We were going to try to get in touch with you and Greg."

"Fortuitous coincidence, Stacy. Dr Cameron called me the moment House was taken to the OR. She was trying to contact the Professor here. The convenors of the Washington conference gave her my number."

"Are you going to be able to treat Greg?" I looked at Tink hopefully.

"I can only observe and suggest." said Tink but obviously the line was blurred.

"Naturally Lisa Cuddy was delighted that one of the world authorities in pain-management consented to giving two lectures at PPTH." There was a real twinkle in Steigler's eye when he said that and I realized I was not going to have to go to war with Cuddy or anyone else to get Greg help.

Steigler turned to see Cameron.

"Dr Steigler. Professor Chan I'm Dr. Cameron. I am so glad you could come." They shook hands.

"As I told you Greg is an old friend. I wish I had known at the time of the infarction. The under-treatment dated back to then?"

"In my opinion. Yes." I knew then that she had written that letter. I hoped Greg appreciated her skill and perception more than he let on,

"It must have been a living hell for him," said Tink. "Can you take me to see the patient?"


	13. Chapter 13

LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - PART 13

FIRST DRAFT

Tink and Wilson agreed I should explain to Greg that Tink was there. "He is having to process so much right now that the simpler the message the better."

Greg's eyes were partially open. The nasal tube carrying his nutrients was still in place but his mouth was free enabling him speak. He looked more human but was in obvious distress. I took his hand. His eyes, tearing with pain, found mine.

"Darling an old friend has come to see you. Remember Tink from Singapore?" I asked and he nodded. He tried to moisten his lips with his tongue.

"His mouth is dry, he needs help."

Wilson handed me a large wet cotton swab. I ran it around the inside of his mouth and moistened his lips.

"Tink ... here in America?" His voice was raspy and speaking was an effort. "Professor Chan?"

Tink stepped forward I removed my hand from Greg's so Tink could put hers in its place. She leant over the bed and kissed him gently on the cheek. When she started speaking to Greg I remembered my surprise hearing her for the first time in Singapore. Diminutive elegant with her fine Chinese features and beautiful skin she sounded completely English. Her voice was like Princess Diana and like the Princess she knew exactly how to speak to someone in pain.

"Always Tink to you Greg." She said. "I'm sorry to find you in my area of expertise. Dr Cuddly has asked me to consult on your pain management. I can observe and advise but I have no authority to treat. Is that alright with you?"

Greg nodded he was about to answer but instead he gasped.

"Stomach, spine or leg?" asked Tink.

"My leg. Shit." His eyes closed tight.

"I'll have to look at the leg. Do you want Stacy to be here while Dr Wilson gives me the tour?"

"Yes." Greg's crystal blue eyes locked on mine. Tink released his hand and he reached for me. Wilson drew the sheet down to reveal his mangled right thigh.

"Greg. I am going to have to touch your leg." Tink could not hide her reaction she did not like the look of the deeply indented scar revealing the massive removal of muscle.

"Yeah. Okay do it." Very gently she touch the parameters effected area. Greg held tight to my hand his eyes starting to tear.

"How long since this has been examined?" She asked Wilson.

"About six months. He doesn't like examinations." Wilson was guilty.

Tink nodded. She touched the upper extremity of the scar and Greg let out a cry. She instantly took her hand away from his leg.

"Greg. Greg, it's alright I am not going to touch your leg again." She pulled up a chair and sat down looking at Greg who was unable to speak as he tried to regulate his breathing. "Has it always been this bad?" She asked him and he nodded.

"Doctor Wilson could you organize some Vicodin for Dr House?" She said evenly.

"Yes but Dr Cuddy and I thought..."

"I know what you thought. But did you think withdrawal would be an aid to his recovery?"

"If you don't want to write the script I would be happy to." Said Steigler. I had quite forgotten he was there.

"No ... no it's alright I write it up." Said Wilson.

"Call Cameron there's some in my desk drawer." Said Greg with difficulty. Wilson nodded and headed out to the nurse's station.

Greg looked at Tink.

"Thank you."

"Shut your eyes. Don't try to talk. All you need to do is relax." she stroked his forehead and ran her hand back over his hair rhythmically as she talked in her calm beautiful voice.

"Wilson won't be long with the Vicodin. You are going to decide how many you need, but there will be no dry swallowing your stomach cannot take that. We'll crush them and give them to you in an antacid. Stacy, Joe and I will be here to see you get what you need. Our job is to deal with your pain. You don't have to cope with it alone anymore. It doesn't have to be a secret any longer."

Greg's eyes partially opened and tears flooded from them as Greg wept. Joe Steigler and I both stepped forward in concern but Tink did not depart from her rhythmic speech and stroking.

"That's right Greg let it go. Don't be embarrassed, cry away the pain. Just let it flow out of you, That's right. That's right just let it go." Her voice was like soft music and Greg's tears flowed freely and silently like fresh spring water bubbling from the earth.

"Tinkerbell" said Greg.

"Shush" answered Tink. "Don't talk Greg. You need to rest now. Just let each part of your body relax."

As she guided him through the relaxation the tension and fear seemed to flow out of him with his tears. Calm seemed to flow through him as his body gradually let go. Finally his breathing quietened as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Wilson was looking though the glass he had seen everything he looked shocked, unsure of what he had witnessed. Cameron entered ICU with the Vicodin. Tink joined Wilson and Cameron at the nurse's station. Tink examined the Vicodin bottle and checked the date against the number of pills. Steigler and I relieved to see Greg sleeping joined the others.

"The important thing is that he knows the Vicodin is available to him if he needs it."

But it was obvious that Wilson's concerns went far beyond the white pills.

"What happened here, Dr Wilson?" asked Tink. "Have you and Dr. Cuddy had phone calls warning you about red flags."

"Yes I got the call six months ago and Cuddy got hers last week. We didn't tell House. We couldn't." He seemed relieved to be able to discuss it with someone else.

"You didn't tell me either." I said, "Who called the New Jersey Board of Medical Examiners or Washington D.C.?"

"Mine came from Washington and Cuddy's came from here. I was stupid I didn't take down names or anything." he answered.

"It's hard to be smart when you are being threatened with the loss of your license to practice." Said Steigler sadly.

"I expected so much more of America." Said Tink, "I really didn't expect to find people suffering chronic pain under-treated, humiliated, dismissed and brutalised by a system which chooses not to differentiate between those suffering acute and chronic pain and hardcore addicts or recreational drug users."

"I hope you are going to talk about that when you address the interns." Said Cameron.

"Don't worry I will," said Tink. "And I will also tell them how compassionate and decent doctors are pursued by the DEA who cannot differentiate between a highly skilled medical practioner and a drug pusher."

"Please don't say anything about doctors. It'll just make things worse." Wilson looked genuinely alarmed.

"Failing to alleviate a person's pain is tantamount to engaging in torture." I said. "Legislation determined by the same criteria that is applied to the illegal drugs is forcing medical practioners to protect their licences at the cost of breaching the human rights of their patients."

"I think you should join me in the lecture." Said Tink. "Give the legal side."

"Great idea" said Cameron.

"Allison I meant to ask you. Did you by any chance publish an anonymous blog on the internet about a colleague suffering chronic pain?" I looked directly at her.

She nodded "Yes."

"Dr Cameron should be there too." I said.

"Good idea." Said Tink.

Cameron was obviously proud to be included. Steigler and Wilson exchanged a look.

"Three of them!"

Wilson rubbed his neck. Then he smiled.

"I think we'll to have to go halves in a cauldron, Joe"

"You are not going to force me into quoting the Scottish play Jimmie. We have enough problems without inviting more."


	14. Chapter 14

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part 14**

With thanks to Benj and Soaranteagle, cutterdog, Astras 2003, sasmom, hughfangirl333, Master of Hugh, Auditrix, Armchair Elvis and all those who wrote in the Episode 2.13 Spoilers Thread on Devoted to Hugh and Why Vicodin thread on House Fans.

**PART FOURTEEN - FIRST DRAFT**

_"The Mystery of Pain"_

_by Emily Dickinson_

_Pain has an Element of Blank-_

_It cannot recollect_

_When it begun-or if there were_

_A day when it was not._

_It has no future but itself,_

_Its infinite realms contain_

_Its past, enlightened to perceive_

_New periods of pain._

Over the next four days so much seemed to happen and so little. Although he slept much of the time Greg and his pain were the center of everything. With the spinal surgery, followed immediately by losing a quarter his stomach to the perforated peptic ulcer, coupled with the chronic pain from his leg, he was terribly ill and fighting on too many fronts. Tink astonished me with her wisdom and her understanding. I loved Greg more than life itself but it was Tink who asked him the question I should have asked five years ago and the question Cuddy and Wilson should have asked then and anytime in the intervening years.

"Tell me about your pain, Greg?" She asked.

"You want a number? They all want numbers." He said.

"No I don't want a number. Some people give their pain a name." Tink took his hand.

"Like some people name their dicks?"

Tink laughed but said nothing. Greg realized he could not avoid answering.

"No I don't give it a name. It's too damn close to refer to it in the third person."

It was the first time he had spoken about the way it felt from a dull persistent ache to the point where it was as brutal as some torturer ripping the thigh open with bare hands, tearing at the truncated muscle, dragging the nerves apart.

"It frightens me, Tinkerbell. It bloody terrifies me."

Then he told her about the bet with Cuddy what it was like without Vicodin. Tink was appalled when he told her how he smashed his hand. She listened carefully without commenting as he told her how Wilson had reacted then and when the week was over.

"There is a clear difference between withdrawal and detoxing." Said Tink.

"I know. I know," said Greg, exhausted by the conversation. "but the distinction is blurred in the land of the free."

"Have you got pain?" asked Tink.

"A bit, a six." He closed his eyes.

Tink buzzed for a nurse. Then asked the woman to page Dr Wilson or Dr Cuddy.

"Stomach, back or leg, Greg?"

"Stomach."

Tink worked on calming and relaxing Greg until Wilson entered.

"Six" said Tink.

"Stomach?" asked Wilson.

Tink nodded and Wilson handed her a lollipop. Tink handed it back to him shaking her head. I watched as Wilson drew up a drug, which I assumed was morphine, into a syringe and injected it via cannula.

"How has he been?" asked Wilson.

"He just told me about the bet with Dr Cuddy." She said. And I saw Wilson's discomfort at the memory.

"It was my fault not Cuddy's" he said. Greg opened his eyes and looked directly at Wilson.

"Of course it was," said Greg. "Just like it was your idea to ask if I had learnt anything?"

"It was," Wilson answered "And you admitted you were an addict."

"You had already decided that. Nothing I could have said would have changed your mind. So I told you exactly what you wanted to hear."

I could see Wilson knew that was true. But Greg wanted to let his friend off the hook

"Everybody lies, Jimmy. How many times do I have to tell you."

Julian Campbell, Tink's husband arrived from New York later that afternoon and Joe Steigler left. Julian was horrified to see the bruise, which I had quite forgotten, so evident on my face. After a quick visit with Greg, Julian joined Tink and myself in my office. Julian waved Greg's keys in front of Tinks face.

"Greg says we can use his flat his car and his piano," he said "but I think it's best if we stayed on at your hotel at least for tonight."

"Steve McQueen" I said "Oh my God I've forgotten Steve McQueen."

"No that's okay. Apparently Dr Cameron's taken him in."

"Who is Steve McQueen?" Asked Tink.

"He's a rat ... a pet rat." I explained. Tink and Julian seemed unfazed by the idea of a pet rat but Julian's jaw dropped when he saw Greg's car.

The shiny red 1965 Corvette convertible looked like a huge colorful toy in the middle of the gray concrete parking lot. The machine confronting him astonished Julian who was used to the fine coachwork of British motoring.

"Bit loud isn't it? It looks like a bloody mouth organ."

"Take no notice of Julian he becomes embarrassingly pompous and British after a couple of weeks in America" said Tink.

"The car is Greg's his pride and joy. It was a gift from a mob boss." I explained and they both laughed.

"He still has the capacity to surprise," said Julian. "Do you have a car here?"

"That dull looking rental over there." I said pointing it out. "Would you prefer we went in my car?"

"If you don't mind. I understand we are all at the same hotel." Said Julian. Obviously Steigler had told him how I had been warned not to go back to my apartment and had checked into the hotel for safety.

"We need to go to Greg's flat, sorry I mean apartment, first," said Tink she explained to her husband "Giving you his keys was the same as giving me permission to go through his apartment and check for drugs."

"Good God," said Julian "This is like stepping through the looking glass."

Obviously Greg's cleaner had been in. The place looked extraordinarily tidy but the essence of Greg was everywhere especially around the piano. I showed Tink around pointing out the bedroom and the bathroom. Then I heard a few notes coming from the piano.

Then the Carousel Waltz swelled and filled the apartment. I remembered being in Greg's arms as we danced on the verandah of the Noel Coward Suite at Raffles. I remember how handsome he looked in his white tuxedo and handtied bowtie and I remember the swirl of the beautiful black evening dress he had Tink buy for me before my arrival in Singapore. I recalled how his body moved with the rhythm of the amazing waltz and how he lead me through the intricate gliding steps. He was so sure-footed and so strong and all of that had happened half a world away and could never happen again.

I walked blindly back into the sitting room and sat down. I was crying. Julian must have noticed because he segued from the Carousel Waltz into something that seemed like Bach. Then he got up from the piano, closed it and crossing the room sat down beside me.

"You've been through hell haven't you, Stacy."

"Greg's been through worse."

"You haven't merely been an observer. You have suffered too."

I just sobbed,

"I am so glad you and Tink are here, Julian."

"Stacy, we would have been here five years ago if we had known."


	15. Chapter 15

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS **

By MAGDALA 

**PART FIFTEEN - FIRST DRAFT**

It was the night before Tink's lecture I had spent most of the day preparing the legal kits for the students and medical staff whom would be attending. My intention was just a quick visit with Greg before heading back to the hotel but he wanted to talk. First we talked about the house that Phillipa had left to us in London.

"It's your house not mine you know that. Julian got his solicitors on to it. I instructed them and it's all sorted out." I said.

"Solicitors?"

"You know that's what they call them over there." I said.

"Just sounds funny coming from you." he smiled.

"I entertain in so many ways."

"Come here, come closer. You could get up on the bed now. I won't break." He wanted to hold me.

"I'm not sure." I was worried I could cause him pain. I knew Tink was still working with him on that.

"Stacy you've done it before. Got up on a hospital bed." Said Greg.

"You watched?" I asked looking at him hard. There was only one time in my life I had done that.

"No. I saw. I couldn't help see. The blinds were open." Obviously seeing me lie beside Mark had hurt him terribly.

I went across pulled the cord and shut the vertical blind. This was the nearest we could come to privacy in the glass hospital. Greg smiled his blue eyes lit with fun.

It felt so good to lie alongside Greg in his hospital bed and inhale the smell of him. My head nestled into his left shoulder as his left arm held me tight against him. It had been a week from his last surgery and the dressing was finally removed. I could touch his chest and stroke my hand down his side. As I felt the outline of each of his ribs with my fingertips I was shocked by his emaciation.

"Skeletal," he said as though reading my mind. "It was all the puking."

"So bulimia really works, huh?" I said lightly.

"Screws the teeth though." he bared his teeth to me they were white and even.

"The dental work's holding up."

"Yeah well I wasn't really dedicated to bulimia. My goal will be obesity once I get away from the lousy food here." he grinned.

"That'll wreck your career as a supermodel."

"I was all washed up when I couldn't do the runway stuff anymore. Will you still love me if I get to be a blimp?"

I laughed. "Even if I have to fight off Richard Simmons and Dr Phil."

"Like they'd worry."

"Richard Simmons would weep. Dr Phil would want you to read eighteen of his books. Then put a whole team in place to help you."

"Thank God I'm not genetically disposed to weight gain." He lifted my chin so he could access my mouth with his and kissed me gently and deeply.

"Your mouth's all better." he said as he opened the top buttons of my blouse and slid his right hand into my bra cupping my breast in his palm as his fingers moved to give me pleasure. But I wasn't comfortable.

"What if someone comes in?" I asked.

"I guess they'll realise we are adults." Said Greg just a Wilson entered stopped short and clapped his hands over his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake," said Wilson, "What do you think you are ... teenagers?"

Greg removed his hand from my blouse and pulled it together.

"It's okay Wilson you can look now." Said Greg. "No Stacy don't move you're fine where you are. Wilson … open your eyes."

Wilson took his hand from his eyes.

"I should get back to the hotel. Greg?" He was holding onto me tightly. "Greg. Let me go."

"It's okay Stacy you are fine there." said Wilson

"Just the hanky panky that worries Wilson." Greg was grinning.

"Yeah. Right." Wilson held up a small paper pill distribution container. Greg's fingers were starting to dig into me and he looked serious.

"The anti-convulsants?" he asked.

"Yes." confirmed Wilson. "Tink want's to make sure." He poured a glass of water from jug.

"Anti-convulsants?" It sounded terrible to me.

"Sometimes the drugs used for seizures and epilepsy help with nerve pain. House found he couldn't tolerate them last time we tried"

"I thought I was going crazy. Maybe you'd better go back to the hotel, darling."

"No. I'll stay. I'll stay here with you."

Wilson smiled at me. Greg took the pills and washed them down with the water Wilson handed him.

"I'll hand out the 'Do not disturb sign' as I go out" said Wilson and then looked at me "If you think he is going crazy call for a nurse and have me paged."

I nodded and Wilson left. I looked into Greg's astonishing eyes they had taken on a gray hue as fear supplanted the fun which had been evident earlier. We tried to talk about the house in England and then about the lecture in the morning. Then we fell silent as Greg waited to feel like he was going crazy and I watched his gaunt face for any signs of heightened anxiety. Greg closed his eyes and I could feel his warm breath against my face. To me it was the gentlest and most intimate touch. And with that thought I fell asleep.

I was woken with a start by the day shift arriving and the noise of the morning routine starting on the ward. I realized Greg's arm still encircled me and he was sleeping peacefully. It was morning and he must have got through the night without going mad. I moved carefully trying not to wake Greg as I got off the bed.

As I buttoned my blouse and tried to straighten my clothes I realized that I felt more rested than I had at anytime since returning to Princeton. Greg's eyes moved under their large crinkled lids and gradually they opened. He smiled seeing me.

"Did we sleep together?" he asked.

"Yes we did." I said smiling back.

Then he started to move. "Ooh."

"Pain? Are you in pain?"

"No not really. My arm. It's gone to sleep." He tried to flex his left hand. "Aagh."

"Do you want me to call a nurse?"

"No. No. Can you just rub my arm?" I picked up his hand and then with both of my hands started to massage his left arm. His eyes closed and I worked my way up his arm to the shoulder. I had always loved his arms the perfect smooth skin, the prominent veins, the musculature.

"Is this helping?" I asked.

"Yes keep going? Now it's all pins and needles."

"This is my fault." I said. If I hadn't sleep on his shoulder it wouldn't have happened.

He opened his eyes and looked directly at me. Those eyes how I had missed those eyes. They looked so different so much more beautiful when he was happy. I hadn't seen his eyes look like this for nearly six years.

"It's not your fault I wanted you with me. I could have moved if I'd wanted to." Sometimes his voice was like a caress. "Will you be alright for the lecture today?"

"I've just got time to go to the hotel take a shower and dress. How's your arm now."

"Fine. Great. Are you going to be wearing one of those power suits?" He asked.

I nodded. "I know they turn you on." I kissed his arm feeling the blood pumping through it under my lips.

"Wish I could be there." He was still thinking about the lecture.

"I wish you could too." I said and I really meant it.

A nurse came into the room. She looked annoyed and judgmental.

"These are not visiting hours."

"It's alright." Said Greg.

"Yes I just popped in for a minute. Yesterday."

As she processed that, I kissed Greg lightly on the mouth.

"See you after the lecture, darling" I said and headed for the door.

"Are you ready for your shower. Dr House?" The nurse had managed to convey in that one sentence that she thought Dr Gregory House was very dirty in every way possible. I laughed.


	16. Chapter 16

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS 16**

by MAGDALA

Part Sixteen - FIRST DRAFT

_**"Pain is a more terrible lord of mankind than even death itself." Dr. Albert Schweitzer.**_

Julian was in the foyer when I got back to the hotel. I started into a flustered explanation of where I had been when he cut me short.

"Greg called us." Julian said, smiling. "Join us for breakfast."

The diminutive Tink was in the middle of a breakfast, which would have satisfied the driver of a monster truck. She nodded hello as she finished her mouthful.

"Grotesque isn't it?" observed Julian. "But at least it stops her from devouring fools in the lecture hall. What are you having?"

"Coffee will be fine."

"Coffee will not be fine. Greg said we were to ensure you had something substantial." said Tink gathering another huge portion onto her fork.

I looked blankly at the menu and the waitress appeared to take my order. Julian could see I was getting nowhere and took the menu from me.

"She'll have the continently breakfast, a fruit plate, coffee with half and half. Okay?" He asked me.

"Yes." I said. "Thank you."

"Greg said he had a painfree night and tolerated the anti-convulsants." Said Tink.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have stayed." I was embarrassed and guilty.

"Nonsense," said Tink. "Don't you know how badly he needs to be held?"

I didn't know and didn't fully understand what she meant until later that morning.

Lisa Cuddy had outdone herself the lecture hall was packed. Every seat was full and there were many students standing or sitting in the aisles. Cameras were rolling for closed circuit and a full record and Tink was wired up with a lapel mike as was I.

Tink had briefly covered the various types of pain when she asked.

"Why do you need to touch the pain patient?"

Several hands went up. Tink pointed at a very self-assured looking young man.

"To see if they're jonesing?" There was the odd giggle from his support group.

"Is that your first thought when someone complains of pain?" Tink snapped back.

"A lot of drug seeking behavior happens in this country."

"'In this country.' I see you, being American and living in New Jersey, are the recognized expert on patients who display symptoms of pain. Well please come up here and stand beside me."

The student did not move.

"Come on ... come on.," she said. As the student went up the steps to the stage I was really glad Tink had eaten a good breakfast. She quickly wrote PAINBASE in descending order on the white board.

P

A

I

N

B

A

SE

She then handed the marker to the student. "Now you fill in the mnemonic while I carry on."

"Okay anyone else got any idea of why we touch the patient when they are clearly in pain?" I was impressed that more hands went up than before and realized what had happened. Tink had neutralized and isolated the bully.

Tink smiled and nodded at a girl in the second row.

"To determine the location and extent of the pain if it is likely to be referred pain and what level of touch aggravates the pain."

"Very good." She looked back at the white board and the red faced student. "Now you have heard your colleagues answer you can fill in the first three. 'P is for Place' giving the location of pain' ... 'A is for amount' giving the severity of pain ... 'I is for interactions' and helps us to find out what aggravates the pain." She turned back to the audience.

"You also need to touch the patient so that you can advise their loved ones how to touch them without causing them further pain. Sometimes a person suffering terrible pain needs to be held this is not the place of a doctor but it is the place of their closest friends or loved one. But it is the place of the doctor to find out what they need, how they need it and from whom they need it. Do you think you should listen to the patient?"

"Everybody lies" stated one wag who was rewarded by a chorus of laughter.

"Do not just pick up on Dr House's quotable quotes listen to what he means. He is one of the finest diagnosticians in the world when he says he does not want to talk to patients he is being quite truthful. But he does listen to them. He listens to them carefully. If he didn't he would not save so many lives." It was obvious they wanted to know more.

"I know you are aware that Dr House is currently a patient in this hospital. You are also aware that he suffers from chronic pain. This does not give you permission to speak to him on the subject of chronic pain unless he specifically allows you to do so at a time of his choosing."

"The torturous element of chronic pain is that very often the sufferer though in agony has trouble describing what is happening as the sensation falls outside the normal vocabulary they associate with pain. This is because in the case of neuropathic pain sensory input is abnormally processed by the peripheral and central nervous system. This is often the main indicator in the process of the development of chronic pain."

"The problem with dysesthesia and allodynia." Again she turned to the student at the white board who was still struggling with A the second letter of the mnemonic. "While you are working on the white board could you please put up a column headed SYMPTOMS and below that write dysesthesia and allodynia.

"Sometimes the pain as burning, at first there is often a feeling of pins and needles, or a strange altered sensation. It can be a shooting, or lancinating. The best description I have ever heard was from a very small child at Great Ormonde Street Children's Hospital. She said 'A nasty person has moved into my leg and they are setting fire to it...' She was talking about pain.

"Albert Schweitzer said 'When I hear a baby's cry of pain change to a normal cry of hunger, to my ears, that is the most beautiful music.' Yes it is music. And when you can alleviate the pain of an adult and you hear them laugh for the first time that too is music." She looked over at me and I knew she was talking about Greg.

"Luckily we were able to treat the neuropathic pain in time."

She pointed to a student at the back. "Yes red blouse. Blond hair. Don't look worried. "Can you tell me why it was lucky we were able to treat the child's pain in time?"

"I ...I don't know." she answered.

"And that is better than a guess and much better than 'I don't care.' Can anyone else answer this?"

A dozen hands shot up. Tink pointed at a student about half way back.

"Neuropathic pain is an important symptom to recognize, because delayed or otherwise ineffective treatment can result in chronicity and in permanent change in the nervous system."

"What percentage of chronic pain is caused by undertreatment of initial pain or failure to diagnose the onset of such pain?"

Even more hands went up. Tink picked the student who had been longing to answer.

"Would it be over 85?"

"Yes sadly it would be well over that. Of course we doctors don't like to be wrong. So one of the worst things a pain patient suffers is humiliation at the hands of the medical profession."

Tink turned and walked over to the student at the white board. He had hardly touched it unable to go past the first two letters in the mnemonic and had only got as far as the heading of symptoms. "I think you have experienced enough humiliation to understand a little more about pain." She turned to the audience. "Don't make fun of your colleague as he returns to his seat. He behaved exactly as many eminent physicians behave when they confront a patient experiencing severe pain."

"Are you alright now." She asked the student. He nodded. "But you are not. You are hurt and you are embarrassed. **B**ut you have learnt something today and next time you see someone in pain you may just save a life."

"Okay now all of you call out with the answers to the mnemonic and I will fill it in." They got very few wrong and soon it was complete.

Place/location of pain

Amount/severity of pain

Interactions: What aggravates the pain?

Neutralizers: What alleviates the pain?

Breakthrough pain: How often?

Activities: Are they limited by pain?

Side Effects: constipation, nausea, dizziness, sedation, dry mouth?

"Wow that was so good" She smiled at them like a proud mother. "Would you like to give the dysfunctional D's a whirl now?"

'Yes they chorused' ... Hands went up.

Distress: anxiety, conflictual feelings, anger, hostility, resentment, and alienation

Depression

Deficits in the following: impulse control, assertiveness, attention, concentration, memory, and judgment

Disturbed sleep resulting from pain or from other pain-related distress

Disability

Deconditioning.

Tink applauded the students and they applauded her.

"I think it is time we took a fifteen minute break. After the break we will discuss the possibilities of addiction to pain medication and the legal responsibilities of the medical practitioner treating pain patients.

Tink and l left the stage and went out through the doors where Julian was waiting. Tink fell into his arms and for the first time I could see she was shaking. "Was it okay, darling?"

"You were wonderful, darling."

"Got them in the palm of your hand." It was Greg fully dressed but seated in a wheelchair.

I was amazed. Tink was so pleased to see him.

"You are the one who should be speaking, Greg," she said.

"Julian told me that was your view." said Greg, "Will it mess up your feminist thingee if I take Dr Cameron's place."

Tink kissed him on both cheeks and then looked at him seriously "How's the pain?"

"Covered," he smiled "I wasn't planning any practical demonstrations."


	17. Chapter 17

LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - Part Seventeen

By MAGDALA

PART 17 FIRST DRAFT

_**The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives. - **__**Albert Schweitzer**_

The level of noise in the auditorium from the chatting students was surprisingly loud as a Tink and I re entered and stepped onto the stage. They fell silent after Tink rubbed the white board clean and picked up a marker.

"Now I am going to write three lines down and I want your honest and immediate reaction." She spoke as she wrote.

"**P**ain patients use narcotics often.

"**N**arcotics can be addictive.

"**T**herefore pain patients are often addicts."

"Hands up. All those who agree with that statement?" A number of hands went up. "Leave them up ... How many is that, Stacy?"

"Fifteen." I answered. The bully from the first half who had so much trouble with the white board had his hand up and had obviously networked and gathered numbers during the break. They started to put down their arms.

"Leave your hands up I will want to deal with your questions later." Said Tink. "Have you got that letter, Stacy?"

I handed her Cameron's blog.

"Everyday he attends work, it is an act of personal courage. This is a man with few reserves of energy or fortitude He measures himself and manages his output of energy and intake of medication with care. But an unforeseen physical or emotional event can put him at risk then it is clear just how fragile he has become.

This is as a result of his original injury and the continuing undertreatment of the severe pain he has now suffered for many years. He compensates by keeping others at a distance that they don't, won't, or can't see it.

Some aspects of his personality indicate the chronic pain may have remodeled his nervous system. He may also be suffering from pseudo-addiction due to inadequately treated pain. He deserves more understanding but behaves in a way that leads some of his colleagues to believe he is addicted when all he requires is better pain control."

The writer of this feels honored to work with this man. I am honored to call him my friend."

She walked to the edge of the stage and signaled to the people through the door, which had been left ajar.

"Ladies and Gentlemen I want you to welcome Dr Gregory House."

Julian wheeled Greg in and they stopped at the foot of the stage. Greg was already wearing an open lapel mike. "You see. No wheelchair access to the stage. They don't want gimps talking." Tink and I walked forward got down and swung our legs round so we were sitting on the edge of the stage either side of Greg. Greg kissed Tink on the cheek "Tinkerbell that soppy introduction. You are a most embarrassing woman."

Greg looked at the audience. "I would like you to meet Mr. Julian Campbell he is Professor Chan's husband and a leading British microsurgeon. In England they work and study for years so they can be called Doctor then they do twice as much work to take up a specialty so they can be called 'Mister'... I've never worked that one out."

"Have fun I'll go and sit up the back with Dr Wilson and Dr Cuddy. Tink, are you aware there are a heap of people with their hands in the air?"

"They thought PNT was right." Tink explained pointing to the message she had written on the board. Julian looked at the students.

"Not very smart ... my wife looks cute as a button but if she sees a lack of compassion she's sweet as a razorblade."

He headed to the back of the hall clambering through the crowded aisle.

"Have you covered the "paleospinothalamic" pathway of chronic pain? The hypothalmus and limbic structures?" Greg asked Tink.

"First off" she answered.

"And you still thought PNT was correct." he looked at those students with distaste. "Leave your hands up until they start to shake."

"Listen to me and listen good. I have chronic pain, pain-killers don't make me high, they make me able to function. They stop me from screaming, throwing up or passing out, which is embarrassing to everyone and would frighten the patients..

"People pain take painkillers when they have pain. They are dependent on them to control the pain they are not addicted.. If the pain stops so do the pills. That simple. People with chronic pain may be dependent on their medication but in less than one percent of cases show any signs of addiction.

"Pain is exhausting and misunderstood. Those who live with it are often exhausted and invariably misunderstood. Under-treated chronic pain destroys relationships. Very often the person suffering chronic pain loses their marriage, their job, their home and their livelihood. First they lose their lives and then often they will take their own life."

"I am fortunate I can still do my job. I still have a friend. But as someone with chronic pain I am not alone. Between 70 and 83 million Americans suffers chronic pain but there are only approximately six thousand medical practitioners with the guts and the humanity to treat them."

He looks at the students with their hands up. "Put your hands down you idiots you are not alone either. The only thing that might stop you from souring to mediocrity will be a lawsuit based on elder abuse or medical negligence. Because you don't give a damn you won't have black helicopters circling your practice and your patients won't be woken at 4.00am by a SWAT Team."

Greg turned to me and I could see how much this was taking out of him. "Stacy tell them what happened in 1984."

"In 1984 Congress handed the DENS Office of Diversion Control discretionary power to revoke a doctor's registration to prescribe medicine. From that moment in order to write prescriptions, doctors had to be registered with the DEA." I said. "This legislation enabled the government revoke the registration if a doctor commits "such acts as would render his registration inconsistent with the public interest." This phrase, buried in the fine print of the Dangerous Drug Diversion Control Act, significantly expanded the ODC's latitude."

"This country established a bureaucracy to catch doctors making errors." said Tink. "As a result, fear is endemic among physicians."

One of the students's raised her hand. "Yes" said Greg.

"How did this start?"

"Someone in Washington said 'Just say NO to Drugs' and that resulted in opiophobia." Said Greg turning to Tink who took over from him.

"Opiophobia is a generalised but erroneous fear of narcotics and addiction on the part of physicians and patients. You will find Opiophobia in your study kit provided. You will find several excellent article and the Martino paper. I'll read you an extract from that paper."

Tink opened her file and started to read.

"Opiophobia has been heightened in recent years by the rhetoric accompanying the government's War on Drugs. One of the central tactics in the War on Drugs has been to focus broadly on the horrors of addiction in media campaigns and anti-drug and prevention programs, without drawing distinctions between drug dependency and abuse or types of addictive drugs. It is thus not surprising that many patients fear that taking any drug in large doses for relatively long periods of time will cause addiction." Additionally, doctors who do treat pain aggressively often face the threat of investigation by medical boards or the DEA, a circumstance that can ruin the careers of doctors, even when cleared. Hence, internal values and external consequences contribute to the Just Say No ethic in pain treatment."

I then took over outlining the New Jersey legislation and quoting from it.

"When protracted prescribing of narcotic drugs is utilized for the alleviation of intractable pain, practitioners shall remain alert to the availability of new or alternative types of treatment. The practitioner should attempt periodically to either cease the medication or taper down the dosage, or try other medication or treatment modalities in a regular and vigilant effort to reduce the addiction propensity for the patient.

Regulations have the force of law, and compliance with specified conditions becomes the responsibility of the practicing physician. Indeed, failure to comply with such conditions might constitute a violation."

A number of hands went up and they were all looking at Greg. "Have you ever had to stop taking medication?"

"Yes and the pain was damned near unbearable. What I did not know was that red flags were popping up. I had no idea what my doctors were going through. But it would have been easier if they had leveled with me. Maybe then we could have done something to make that week easier. But I felt I had just been hung out to dry."

Again a heap of hands went up. "Isn't there something doctors can do about this?"

"You won't find any politician left or right who want to be seen as soft on drugs. Stacy will give you a full briefing on the law. As far as your patients are concerned. Listen listen listen. And never ever lie to them." Said Greg.

Tink had finally caught Julian's eye and he and Wilson threaded their way down the aisle. Greg was tiring badly he took my hand and held it to his lips briefly then turned to the audience.

"I don't want to talk about this subject again so when we next meet we won't refer to it. Understood. You have another half hour to go. Listen to everything these women have to say and you might learn something of value. I know I have."

This time Wilson took the chair as Greg was wheeled out the students applauded him and one by one started to stand.

When they had gone Tink again looked at the students.

"I really didn't expect to find people suffering chronic pain, under-treated, humiliated, dismissed, and brutalised by a system that chooses not to differentiate between those suffering acute and chronic pain and hardcore addicts or recreational drug users." Said Tink. "I didn't expect to find a system which cannot differentiate between a highly skilled medical practitioner and a drug pusher."

The students seemed upset and confused. So many of them had wanted to be doctors so they could help people. They needed something they could hold onto, some sort of direction.

"I think it is important for all of you to realise that pain is a human rights issue. Failing to alleviate a person's pain is tantamount to engaging in torture." I said. "Legislation determined by the same criteria that is applied to the illegal drugs is forcing medical practitioners to protect their licenses at the cost of breaching the human rights of their patients."


	18. Chapter 18

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS 18**

by MAGDALA

Part eighteen - FIRST DRAFT

Tink and I were happy as we left the lecture hall. Tink said normally students didn't applaud lecturers but we could still hear them clapping. Tink was thrilled.

"Maybe those kids can change things for the better." she said hopefully.

"You really got them thinking." I said.

"No it was Greg. They were looking chronic pain in the face. He inspired them. They could see what it cost him physically and emotionally to speak today." Said Tink stopping short as Julian hurried towards us. He looked angry and worried.

"Why the hell didn't you have your cell on, Tink?" he snapped.

"You know I turn it off when I am lecturing." She said.

"What's happened?"

"Come with me both of you." As we rushed towards Greg's room Julian briefly explained that Greg was exhausted and he and Wilson were about to assist him out of his clothes and settle him back in bed when Lisa Cuddy entered. She was furious about the lecture and reserved most of the blame for Greg.

We could hear Cuddy before we saw her.

"I am not leaving this room until you answer me, House." She said harshly. "House what were you thinking?"

"Cuddy can't you seen he's exhausted." Countered Wilson.

I could see Wilson was right. House was still fully dressed. Sitting on the edge of the bed his legs dangling. Right hand clamped onto his right thigh. His head was drooping against his chest his eyes closing.

"He has to be got back to bed." Said Tink.

"Can you lift your right leg, House?" asked Julian who realized what was stopping Greg from lying back on the bed.

House shook his head in reply.

"Nurse." called Wilson

"Put your arms around my neck." Julian told Greg who complied without question.

Julian carefully put one of his own arms around Greg's back and slipped the other under his knees and lifted him clear of the bed. The nurse entered and seeing what was occurring pulled the top sheet and blanket back. She then assisted Julian to position House correctly and place him in the bed.

Wilson looked on. I think he was shocked to see Greg depending someone other than himself

I looked at Cuddy "You have my letter of resignation. Now would seem to be the time to make it official. Why were you shouting at Greg?"

"He was way out of line speaking as he did." Said Cuddy.

"If you have a problem with the lecture you speak to me. My lecture my responsibility." Said Tink looking at Greg's chart.

"Yes and you can go back to London. And I have to go into damage control because House has run off at the mouth again."

"That is not fair Dr Cuddy" Said Wilson.

The nurse took off Greg's shoes and socks. She undid his trousers and was in the process of taking them off when the reason for Greg's silence became apparent. The toes on his right foot separated curled and went rigid as the entire limb went into spasm.

"He's cramping," said the nurse.

I looked at Lisa. "Let's take this outside. Greg doesn't need this stress."

"I am his primary physician" she stated angrily.

"Yes and you treat him as though he is a drug addict."

We went out to the corridor. But only because Cuddy wanted to have a go at me.

"Stacy. I think I would know better than you." She said.

"You advised the middle ground. I made the mistake of thinking you were right then. When it comes to pain I would take Professor Chan's opinion over yours anyday, Lisa."

Lisa gave me a dismissive look.

"Don't role your eyes at me and suck in your cheeks. I know you are scared but that is no reason to humiliate Greg. When you do that or shout at Greg then you enter my field of expertise, the law."

Lisa avoided further facial expression and could no longer meet my eyes.

"Greg has treated you and this hospital with a fairness that he has never received in return. He has not sued PPTH for the original delay in diagnosis, or the botched 'middle ground' surgery, or the persistent under-treatment of the constant intractable pain he has suffered since then. But then he could not depend on the support of Professor Chan, Mr. Campbell or myself before this time."

"Are you trying to threaten me?" She asked defensively.

"No. But I should warn you that when you or a member of you staff infers he has an addiction to painkillers, or refers to Greg as an addict or a junkie, that is threatening. It is very threatening. That is also slander, Lisa."

"Dr Cuddy." The ward clerk called out from the central ward administration area. "You have a call from the media relations office."

This gave Cuddy back her fight she looked sternly at me. "Now it begins." she said moving off to take the call. "And I will be the one picking up the pieces and covering his back as usual, Stacy."

I went back into Greg's room. Still half dresses he was lying back against the pillow looking weak and exhausted. Wilson was injecting a painkiller Julian's arm was around Tink she looked sad and furious all at once. Greg reached out his hand to me and I moved to the side of the bed took his hand and leant over and kissed him.

"I just shut Cuddy up and stopped her rolling her eyes." I whispered to him in such a way that Tink, Julian and Wilson could not fail to hear.

"Wow. I've been trying to do that for five years." He attempted a laugh.

"It's a girl thing. Gender specific. I flicked on the bitch switch." I said smiling.

"You could have sold tickets." He said

"Bound to be an encore soon?"

A trainee nurse entered with a bed-bath kit. And handed it to the Nurse who was loosening Greg's clothes. The nurse looked at Tink.

"Doctor House would you like your visitors to leave while we get you settled." The nurse asked Greg.

"I'll see you later" I said kissing his finger tips.

"Dr Wilson?"

"I got patients backed up. I'd better go. Hang in there, House."

"Thank you." Said Greg as we all left him to the care of the nurses.

We formed a small group in the corridor outside Greg's room. Tink looked at Wilson she seemed perplexed.

"What is it with you and Dr Cuddy?" She asked, "Both of you seem to share a somewhat cavalier attitude to his pain."

"His behavior doesn't help."

"How is someone supposed to behave when they are in agony? Steigler told me what Greg told him about you. He said 'You must convince Wilson that denial is not a river that flows through Egypt' you and Cuddy are the same you are in denial. You would rather think him an addict than someone who is suffering terrible pain. Why is that?"

Julian understood it seemed. "Tink go easy. Wilson is House's best friend. Just imagine how it effects him to see his best friend in pain."

Cuddy hung up the phone and joined us. Her executive smile was in place and she seemed quite pleased with herself. "There's a news crew on the way they want to do an interview with me about chronic pain."

"Why would they want to interview you?" I asked unable to help myself.

"Because I am the administrator of this hospital I guess." She preened. "Someone has to take care of damage control."

"You're walking into a trap."

"Stacy. Don't be paranoid. I have been handling this sort of thing for a long time."

Surprising, Wilson joined Tink and Julian in backing me up. Finally Cuddy admitted they had first wanted to interview Tink, Greg and myself but she did not feel she could permit that.

"How many press did you have at the lecture Lisa?" asked Tink.

"About fifteen." She answered. Wilson just shook his head.

"And you didn't see fit to warn any of us?" Said Tink. "So if 60 Minutes do a story on House we'll have you to blame."

I had never seen Cuddy look so uncomfortable.

"Okay then first you must get Media relations to cancel the interview. Now we are going to have to put a strategy in place that protects Gregory House and this hospital."

While Cuddy went to her office to speak to Media relations. Tink was in my office making calls. Greg slept peacefully through all the executive turmoil.

When he finally opened his eyes he was the first person to learn that PPTH was to have it's own Pain Management Program to support and treat people suffering intractable or chronic pain.

"So Cuddy came through?" He smiled.

"Yes," said Tink. "She did. She is giving a press conference tomorrow announcing the launch date."

I saw the stress leaving his face and realized why Tink let him believe Cuddy was there for him.

"Wilson going to be part of it?" Greg asked.

"He's one of the prime movers," I said.

"Good. Now I know it will work." said Greg his eyes closing again as he drifted back to sleep.

------------------------------

At the end of the day as Tink, Julian and I walked though the parking lot to my car I looked across at them.

"Everybody lies." I said.

"Greg needed to be able to maintain his belief in them," said Tink, "Without that he couldn't keep working at PPTH. That job defines who he is without that job he would feel he was nothing."

I nodded realizing the truth of what she had said.

Julian put his arm around me. "It will have to be our secret."

I realized this was true.

"Why don't we go out to dinner. Celebrate. Don't you realise we have had a very big win. PPTH is getting a pain management program. The end justified the means."

"Sounds like a plan," I said, "But first I need a long bath and about an hours nap."

Julian looked at his watch. "We'll book the restaurant for nine and give you a wake-up call at eight. Okay?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

All I could think about walking down the corridor to my room was the bath. I put the card key in and opened the door and entered. The phone was ringing so instead of going into the bathroom first and turning on the hot tap I had to cross the room and answer the phone.

It was Greg he was checking that the Pain Management Program was going to happen and it was not something he had just dreamt up. When he praised Cuddy I held my tongue. Tink was right it was a very big win.

He asked me what I was doing I told him I was about to have a long bath and then we were going out to dinner.

"Have champagne for me the Pain Program is something to celebrate" he said. "I know you and Tink must have worked on Cuddy for this to happen." Then he told me that he loved me.

"I love you too" I answered and that was the truth. I hung up the phone kicked off my shoes and closed my eyes for a moment.

I opened my eyes and let out a scream.

The bathroom door was open and blocking my way to the bathroom and the door of the room was my husband Mark.

Mark was sitting in his wheelchair and he was holding a gun. He wasn't pointing it or anything like that just looking at it with fascination turning it around in his hands.

"Terrible isn't it. This was taken off a kid at school this afternoon. It's a violent world now. It's all drugs and guns but I don't wonder people get frustrated. Who can you believe in anymore? The kid that had this was only nine years old not even old enough to have been in love. Not old enough to really know betrayal. Much better that I have the gun. I have better reasons for using it ... you'd have to agree wouldn't you, Stacy?"

I couldn't speak. Mark continued. He was using his student counselor voice.

"'I love you too?' I heard you say that. The whole sentence would be 'I love you too, Greg,' wouldn't that be the whole sentence, Stacy?"

I was paralysed with fear.


	19. Chapter 19

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS 19**

by MAGDALA

**Part nineteen - FIRST DRAFT**

Mark was caressing the gun.

"You know I've always hated guns up to now. But look, it's so elegant. A death delivery system which sits comfortably in the hand. It feels good, Stacy, it's heavy. They say this handgun is so reliable. Funny isn't it guns are reliable and people aren't. I'd call that ironic what would you call it Mrs. Warner? You do remember you are Mrs. Warner don't you, Stacy." He said. Oh God, how could I forget.

"Mark. Please put it down." I tried to say evenly.

"Please. Please? Remembered your manners now have you? Please put the gun down? I didn't hear you say 'Please' before you picked up with your lover again. I didn't hear a 'please' before you tried to wreck our marriage."

"Mark I didn't wreck our marriage you did. You physically abused me. You hurt Dr. House in the car park so badly you could've killed him."

"Oh yes the brilliant Dr. House. With your help he turned me into a cripple. What I did to him was only fair. My friends can't understand why I'm prepared to forgive you. They don't think you deserve forgiveness but I have told them I have decided to let you come back." Mark had practiced this line I could tell.

I felt a moment of pity and then I remembered how Wilson had said about my husband "I don't think he's mad. I think he's bad."

"I'm not coming back to you, Mark." I realised I would rather he shoot me and that empowered me.

"But you've got to come back. I've told our friends you are coming back." He was pleading. For the first time I saw Mark as repulsive.

"No you told your friends. My friends wouldn't want me to go back to you." I knew I was gaining control. I wondered why he hadn't actually pointed the gun at me. I thought suddenly that it was possible that it was not loaded.

"Then I suppose I will have to shoot you" he said and then as though he had read my mind he pointed the gun at me. I just looked at it. The ugly, heavy, phallic symbol. Our fore-fathers foresight deserted them in this regretable item of our constitution 'the right to bear arms.' The domestic killer and the weapon of a criminal. It was ridiculous and so was Mark to even consider it necessary.

The stupidity of it all made me smile. I stood up and walked across the room to Mark. He looked confused, maybe he thought I was coming back to him. I drew back my hand and slapped the gun out of his hand. It hit the floor and discharged. Then the window that lead to the balcony shattered. I would never forget that moment and the realisation that the gun had been loaded.

My body moved before my mind. I shoved Mark and his wheelchair out of my way and rushed out of the door.

"Call security. There's a man with a gun in room 1203!" I yelled as I ran past the doors, which opened a cautious fraction, as I headed down the corridor to the lift. Seeing Mark wheel out of my room I decided on the stairs.

Two at a time I went up the two stories and left the stairwell running for Tink and Julians suite. I banged desperately on the door. Julian opened the door with a smile.

"What's the fuss?" He asked.

"Call security. Mark, my husband, he's here he has a gun." I explained and Julian's smile vanished.

Julian picked up the phone "Security. There is a man on the twelfth floor with a gun. Room ..."

"1203" Tink and I answered together.

Tink looked at me. "Bathroom" She opened the door and guided me inside. "After I go out lie in the bath. You will be safe there."

"But what about you?"

"I have Julian. Do as I tell you Stacy."

I did. I realized then that I was shaking. Mark had hidden in my bathroom waiting for me. I kept seeing the gun and hearing it go off and the sound of the window shattering. I grabbed a couple of the thick white bathsheets and wrapped myself up in them as I lay down in the bath. Then absurdly I fell asleep.

There in curled up in the bottom of an empty bath I slept through it all.

My husband was arrested and shackled and wheeled out to the hotel to a squad car. Tink under the watchful eyes of two detectives cleared as much as she was allowed to of my belongings out of my room which was now covered in glass fragments from the shattered window. With the assistance of a maid everything was hung up and put away in the new and far surperior room the hotel had provided.

The detectives made noises about keeping my laptop computer but Tink simply refused. Julian contacted Wilson and told him what had happened and after speaking to Greg the men decided their course of action.

Tink came into the bathroom and woke me because the police were ready to talk to me. I gave the two detectives a statement and twenty minutes later they were gone. I noticed the bowl of fruit and asked if I could grab a peach.

Tink and Julian explained that the hotel was very embarrassed that they had allowed Mark in as he was the only person they had been told could not be allowed in. They thought I would have flowers and fruit waiting in my new room.

There was a knock at the door and Julian admitted Wilson. He immediately headed for me sitting down beside me on the sofa and placing an arm around me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine really I am" I said but my hand shook as Julian handed me a glass of Champagne he had just poured.

"I won't have one thanks, I need to help get House settled." said Wilson

"You mustn't tell Greg about Mark if he gets stressed it will increase the pain." I said, "I'll come up to the hospital later tonight."

"We've checked him out of the hospital. Stacy."

Tink explained I had been busy with the police.

"But he can't go to that flat of his." I said.

"It's alright, Stacy," said Tink "He is here staying at the hotel. He wanted to look after you for a change."

"Why isn't he here now?" I asked.

Julian looked hard at me. "He is in a wheelchair. Stacy. He knew that Mark had threatened you from a wheel chair, he didn't want to frighten you. And besides he has done too much today the nurse we've hired is getting him into bed and making sure he is comfortable."

"I want to see him now." I was worried. "Surely he shouldn't be out of hospital yet?"

Wilson laughed. "There are three doctors in this room House is a doctor too. Stacy there's a nurse with him and the room service menu is better than anything the hospital can offer. And of course he's in television heaven. Stacy he is fine."

"Don't you understand Mark will make bail tomorrow" I said. "I only upset him, he hates Greg"

"There's a very large cop out in the hallway. He's already thought of that Stacy. Says he gave you and Cuddy a police escourt to the hospital when House had his last surgery. Says House saved his wife's life."

"He prayed for Greg" I said.

"I believe you both have a body guard."

The cop's name was Cliff I introduced him to everyone. He didn't want to go into see Greg he had seen him when Wilson brought him in and thought he look tired and ill. Cliff simply assured me that he or one of his friends would be watching the corridor. He was pleased that we were all on the same floor and happy to learn tht Greg and I had separate but connecting rooms. He was an old fashioned guy but he had seen enough of my husband to know I should never ever think of returning to him. "He's a killer, Stacy. He might not 'ave killed yet but he will. Besides Dr House looks like he needs looking after."

Tink told Greg later that she fell in love with Cliff when he said he had organised some friends and they would spend their off-duty hours watching over Dr House and myself. Greg laughed saying there was a time when Cliff had threatened to punch his lights out. I told him that Cliff had prayed for him since then. Cliff had been right. Although Greg was lying in apparent comfort in the large hotel bed he looked tense and his breathing was shallow.

"Greg?" asked Tink.

"Seven" he answered.

Wilson was ready with a syringe "Roll over" he directed. But Greg was reluctant to move his right leg which the nurse had elevated using carefully positioned pillows.

"Use my arm, Wilson" he said. Wilson looked at Tink for direction and Tink nodded. Greg's arm was easily accessed as he was still dressed in one of those awful hospital gowns.

Once I had promised to call roomservice for food the others agreed to leave. The nurse asked if there was anything else he needed.

"I need to pee" as she prepared to help him I realised there were a few things I had to do "have I got time for a quick shower?"I asked Greg smiled at me and I went tthough the adjoining door to my room. And headed for the bathroom.

Seven minutes later I went back to Greg's room clad only in a towelling hotel robe and Greg's favourite perfume. "How is the pain?" I asked.

'It's not so bad. You can get in," he said lifting the sheet and blanket on his left side. He was not wearing the hospital gown which was now folded on the chair at the writing desk. The nurse must have helped him out of it before leaving. I slithered out of the towelling robe and moved under the cool white sheet to Gregs left side

"I just want to feel your skin against my skin." He said as I snuggled into him. Feeling his shuddering intake of breath I pulled back thinking he was in pain but he was feeling something deeper and more profound. Something that brought tears to his eyes.

"Oh God, Stacy. He could have killed you."

Then it hit me. Everything that had happened. Again I saw Mark looking at me with that cold-eyed madness and the gun being pointed and it hitting the floor and discharging. It was like looking at freeze-frames on a video and I started shaking, Greg held me to him as I sobbed. I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine, I pressed closer and closer to him until I felt I was part of him. How had I ever left him? Why had I ever left him? Yes he was 'the one' he would always be 'the one.' I felt the

velvet softness of his beard as he laid his face against mine.

I had survived. I hoped that big cop Cliff was praying for me an Greg because I needed all my courage to ask Greg the question that mattered more to me than life itself.

"Greg?"

"Yes?" He said kissing my forehead.

"Are we still a couple?"


	20. Chapter 20

**LEGACIES AND LOLLIPOPS - 20**

by MAGDALA

**Part Twenty - FIRST DRAFT**

I waited and waited for Greg to answer. I lifted my head and looked at him. He was staring into space there was desolation in his extraordinary blue eyes as he moistened his lips with his tongue. Although our bodies touched skin to skin for their entire length his mind was elsewhere. He might as well have been in another country. I felt as though I was drowning.

Then he was back. His eyes grayed and locked onto mine his face was lined with sadness. "Can I be what you want me to be? You said you were lonely with me. That there wasn't room for you."

"I was lying. I was trying to hold my marriage together." My hand swept across his heaving chest holding him tighter. "I love you. I can't love anyone else. I made a terrible mistake."

"Stacy. I hurt you. I might not have waved a gun in your face but I hurt you just as badly." He said. " I love you too but I know I am capable of hurting you."

"Greg it was your leg and everything that happened to you. I let them do that to you." Tears were starting to roll down my cheeks again. "You had to blame me. You couldn't forgive me for that."

"Yeah blame the one person without a medical qualification. That makes sense?" He had turned his sarcasm on himself. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. And I have been so damn cruel to you. Can you forgive me for that?"

"Can we be together?" I asked.

"I'm not sure I can be enough for you," he said clinging on to me. "There isn't much more even Tink can do to help the pain and won't be as fit as I was before these surgeries. I am not even sure if I am able to make love to you."

"I want you however you are. I just want you and no one else." There was no doubt in my voice. No doubt in any part of me.

"I can't stand the thought of you having to be my nurse." He said sadly. I realized he was really frightened about the future and could easily talk himself out of our relationship. I knew I had to turn him around, and fast.

"Like you'd let that happen? I'll be exactly what I want to be and what I need to be. I love you, you idiot."

"Idiot. I thought I was more of a jerk."

"That's what you said five years ago. You really haven't changed much have you?" I found his lips and kissed him into a forced silence.

As I lay back against his shoulder I notice he had calmed down and the lines on his face were smoothed and lessened. He gently caressed my naked body. I could feel his hand tiring. I ran my hand down his cheek and whispered my permission to stop and go to sleep while I just caressed him. I stroked and held onto the parts of him that Tink had told me could not hurt him and could only help him. Very soon he was sleeping peacefully with me in his arms. We were becoming a couple again and that was just the beginning.

Twice in the night he woke needing to pee and did not complain when I helped as the nurse had done. When I emptied the hospital container and rinsed it clean for the next time I realized how much Tink had done for him. She had helped him to open up and let others in without feeling a humiliating loss of dignity. I remembered how she had touched him and taught him to relax. Julian was right there too. I recalled how he had lifted Greg clear of his hospital bed. Julian at well over 6 feet 2 inches was as tall as Greg and while Julian was a strong man is was possible to see how much weight Greg had lost and frail he had become.

It was my entire fault he had been so ill and would need a lot of therapy before he was even close to recovery. I hadn't insisted he treat Mark he would not have been injured. But it was no good thinking of what might have been. I could change none of the past. I was starting over and I had missed him so much. I crawled back into bed beside him snuggling against him automatically his arms encircled me without him stirring. I dared to believe we were a couple and then I too fell asleep.

When Greg shook me awake it was morning. The phone was ringing.

"You'll have to get that," said Greg. The phone was right beside him on the bedside table. I reached for it. "No it's your phone ringing in your room" laughed Greg.

I had left the adjoining door open so I got out of bed and grabbing the discarded toweling robe rushed to my room and my phone. It was Tink. She apologized for calling so early but said she needed to see me. I asked her to give me a moment to get on some clothes. I looked at my watch. It was seven am.

I rushed back to Greg and hastily straightened the bed so that it looked as though I had not slept there. "You really think you can fool Tink" said Greg.

"Our cop might want to talk to me too. And what about the nurse she will be arriving soon?"

I closed the connecting door on his laughter and then quickly threw on some underwear, jeans and a knit top. I hardly had time to put a brush through my hair when there was a knock at the door. I quickly pulled open the bed and jumped on it trying to make it look as though it had been used.

It was Tink and Cliff the big cop I brought them into the room. And finished the charade by covering the bed roughly then we sat down together on the easy chairs around the coffee table.

"I'll call room service ... do you two want coffee?" I asked.

"Should be arriving any moment I asked them to send some up." Said Tink.

The reason they were both there was that somehow the word had got out to the press about Mark and there was a story in the morning press. The only thing I was glad about was that Greg had not been mentioned. There was a knock at the door it was the coffee Tink would not allow me to sign for it. There was an extra cup for Greg.

I filled it went to the door which connect to his room. I knocked then hearing his voice opened the door and went through carrying the cup.

"Tink thought you might like coffee." I said putting it on the bedside table.

"Tell them to come in here. No more secrets okay?" He pulled me towards him. I leant forward and my lips touched his.

"Okay." I said. "Greg, the press know about Mark and the gun."

"Had to happen."

Cliff and Greg got on well Greg remembered Cliff's wife was called Ally and he was pleased that she had totally recovered from the illness he had diagnosed. Although Greg made light of his contribution to her survival Cliff knew better.

I was concerned that the story of Mark's attack being in the paper might somehow sabotage the announcement of the pain management clinic. Tink said she had spoken to Cuddy and Wilson and they decided the best plan was go ahead as though nothing had happened that it would be a joint announcement from Cuddy, Tink and Cameron.

"Cameron?" I asked.

"Tink and Julian gave me no choice." He smiled. "They hold the purse strings and they seem to think the pain clinic needs to be headed by someone with compassion. Cuddy had to go with it."

"Cameron accepted?"

"I gave her no choice. I had a fuzzy memory of her taking charge before my back surgery. Providing she isn't with people who are actually dying, Cameron's fairly understanding about pain." He smiled "She's pretty too. Probably be front page tomorrow."

"Cameron's a great choice." It made so much sense to me. "But what about diagnostics."

"She doesn't know it yet but she'll get called in for consults all the time. She'll grow to hate diagnostics like I hate the clinic."

Cliff turned to me "So you are going to stay at the hotel this morning and I will make sure you stay safe."

"I suppose you have to go back to the hospital then." I said to Greg.

"No, darling." He answered. "I am being a pain-management lab-rat."

"In England find people suffering pain cascades are often better treated outside of a hospital though not necessarily in their own home. Particularly if they live alone. The service in a hotel sometimes augmented by a special nurse is usually better for the patient."

"So I'll be looking after the pair of you then." Said Cliff as he stood to leave. " Time I checked in with hotel securing to make sure they do their stuff too."

As soon as he was gone Greg grimaced. "Where's that bloody nurse?"

"Take two vicodin. I'll get you some milk."

"Tink. I need to take a dump."

"Oh that's different." She smiled, "I'll get Julian. He's the one who does the heavy lifting."

She left instantly aware it was a matter of urgency. Greg was starting to perspire. I opened the bar fridge and got out the small carton of milk.

I opened it and took it over to Greg.

"You need vicodin too?"

He nodded grabbing his pill jar from the bedside table and shaking two into his hand and putting them in his mouth. I handed him the milk and he drank it straight from the carton.

Tink returned with Julian. Julian looked at Greg "How do you want to do this, wheelchair and move, carry or support and steady?"

"Support and steady."

" Where are the gowns?" Asked Julian. I picked up the folded gown from the chair by the writing table and handed it to him. Julian helped Greg sit up and thread his arms through the gown.

"Right can you get your feet onto the floor?"

Seeing the effort Greg was having Tink suggested she wanted more coffee. I realized what she meant was that Greg needed as much privacy as possible. So together we went into my room and closed the door.

I was silent as she poured more coffee for both of us.

"Is he really alright here?" I asked Tink.

"I want him as far from that hospital as possible." She said in a voice bordering on anger.

"The main problem for Greg is that his doctors and any access to pain management is literally 'in house' at PPTH." She said. "He hasn't been able to fully depend on the doctor/patient confidentiality most patients would be able to take for granted. He cannot have an Xray, an MRI or even a blood test without it getting round the hospital."

"Stacy, I am not saying that Cuddy or Wilson would intentionally breach his confidentiality but I know it has happened. To have his healthcare controlled by his workplace him particularly vulnerable as a patient and an employee. Cuddy seems to consider the chronic pain he suffers is psychological and that he is addicted to the pain pills. She is entirely wrong on both counts but she has added to his anxiety as this threatens his professional standing and questions the reliability of his intellectual processes."

"This is the value of starting the Pain Management Clinic. Cuddy can announce it and that will feed her ego. Then Cameron becomes his primary physician and Cuddy is off his case." That was a clever move.

"Won't the job need to be advertised?"

"Don't see why. I read her letter about Greg at our lecture. Best application I've ever read." Said Tink.

"You know she loves Greg?"

"And she knows he loves you and you love him. You have no need to worry, Stacy. She is one person who really knows the most important rule regarding the doctor patient relationship."

"And what rule is that?"

"You must never ever bonk your patient."

"Bonk?"

"Copulate with, fornicate with, make love to, have intercourse with, screw, shag, or bang." She said "You two slept together last night didn't you?"

"Yes but we did not bonk" I said. 

Tink looked the question. 

"He doesn't know if he will be able to make love again." 


End file.
